


The War is Fought Anon ('Can We Keep Him?' Remix)

by Yggdrasil (retrollama)



Series: The Wayfarers' Army [4]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alien Rituals, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Rodney McKay, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s02e03 Runner, Fugitives, Insecure John, Insecure Rodney, John thinks it's adorable, Kidnapped John, M/M, Post-Season/Series 01, Remix, Rodney Gets the Recognition He Deserves, Supportive John, They really can't catch a break, rodney is bad with kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 36,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25401529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retrollama/pseuds/Yggdrasil
Summary: He didn’t know what he expected, really. This was their lives they were talking about. A year ago he’d been perfectly content on his little Antarctic research base, no friends to speak of, and now he was sneaking around an alien spaceship with a P-90 in his hands and a bag of C4 strapped to his back scared that the one person in the universe he cared about more than himself was already laying on the ground somewhere, a lifeless husk with ridiculous goddamn hair. When he got Sheppard back, they were going to be having words. Right after he kissed him senseless for scaring him. And in the morning, he was going to ask Arcus about where he could find the Pegasus equivalent of a priest because there was no way John wasn’t cursed or something.-Or, John and Rodney try to find a more permanent base in Pegasus and nothing goes to plan, including picking up some new housemates.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Series: The Wayfarers' Army [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/254962
Comments: 19
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Can We Keep Him?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142577) by [ami_ven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven). 



> Hello again! Welcome to part 4 of my ami_ven remix series (Check out their stuff, it's amazing).
> 
> This one is based on their story 'Can We Keep Him?' and it ended up WAY longer than I had planned. I was reading the story and I realised that somewhere between 'No Regrets' and now, John and Rodney had been through a lot, starting a war on the Wraith, meeting up with Teyla, settling down in the Ancient complex, and then the story just picks up again when they meet Ronon. I wanted to explore more of what went on in those moments, like what was their first meeting with the Wraith like? How did they go from doing farmwork to taking down hive ships? What did Teyla have to say about what was going on in Atlantis? What was the Ancient facility like?
> 
> I had originally intended for this part in the series to be two chapters but given that I'm already 9k into part 2 and I still haven't gotten up to Ronon yet, I thought three seemed more reasonable. 
> 
> Anyway, starting to go a lot more off book from here, but I hope you like it nonetheless. Read on and enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets tired of hiding in farming communities and the universe reminds him he should be careful what he wishes for.

_A pack of one then two then four_  
_Marching ever on_  
_Not a mind can think ‘withdraw’_  
_The war is fought anon._

John brought the hoe down with savage satisfaction, clumps of turf ripping away under the force of his frustration. The suns were stifling on that particular midsummer day, the sweat sticking his cotton shirt to his skin and the burning on the back of his neck making everything that much more annoying.

They were on Hericia, a small moon populated by farmers. Their technology was close enough to late 19th century as far as Rodney had been able to tell, but their agriculture was way behind. No one had heard of irrigation or automation, leaving them to farm everything by hand with little success. When they’d stepped through the ‘gate they’d been witness to a group of a dozen men ferrying pails of water back and forth to soak their fields. They’d said the summer had been harsher than anyone was prepared for and they couldn’t afford to lose their crop.

Rodney had spied the large metal and blue glass of an Ancient structure on the edge of their farmland almost immediately and made a beeline for it, ripping off panels and plugging in his tablet before anyone could question his touching what most civilisations they’d met classed as a religious site. John stood and watched with fond exasperation, hand resting lightly on the stolen zat gun strapped to his thigh, as he began rambling about power requirements and crystal matrixes. There was a crate of P-90s in the jumper but they’d opted to save them for as long as they could, knowing that once they ran out of ammo, that was it.

John loved this, watching Rodney in his element, wrist deep in Ancient machinery, mouth running a million miles a minute, so absorbed in his work that he hardly noticed anyone or anything else. It gave him time to just stare and enjoy the sight without having to worry about some sharp remark on his ‘Kirkian ways’ when he was caught. Rodney’s clever fingers pulling and rearranging crystals, the soft frown at his mouth, the endless shifting of his shoulders as he repositioned his upper half under the console. He radiated energy and excitement, so alive in every twitching muscle.

God, John was so gone over this man it was ridiculous. He’d spent the better part of a year convincing himself Rodney was nothing but his best friend and now that he had him all to himself, he didn’t know how he’d managed it. There was this magnetic attraction that drew his eyes to him wherever he was and once he’d gotten to know him better, the reluctant bravery and fierce loyalty had won over any misgivings he’d ever had about getting along with the prickly scientist.

And he’d be damned if watching Rodney tear someone to the ground with a look and a handful of harsh words didn’t set a fire low in his belly…

“Aha!” Rodney had declared after ten minutes of fiddling, effectively snapping John from his very pleasant daydream. “One of the control crystals is burnt out, it looks like someone was _camping_ in here and thought ‘oh, hey, why don’t I set up a fire in the _millennia old Ancestral building!’_ God, people are idiots! This is why I don’t deal with morons. Anyway, it’s not a hard fix. I just have to rewire some of the pathways around the damaged circuit…”

Which, of course, meant that it was a very hard fix and there were a least ten other problems waiting in the lurch.

They were now on day four camped in the little farming community and Rodney, who was pretty sure they were looking at an Ancient water processing plant, was close to figuring it out. John had been conscripted to help turn over one of the resting fields to prepare for the colder season which, apparently, was not that far away.

The moon was on a near orbit to a gas giant relatively close to one of the two suns. Their days were incredibly short, only fourteen hours, and their seasons came on thick and fast. When they were behind the giant, it was winter, cold and bitter with almost no sunlight to speak of. On the opposite side, the nights could be as short as half an hour and the light of two suns would bake the entire planet in sweltering heat. The people were sun-darkened and their irises white with UV damage, a fair amount of them almost blind, but they were hardy and stubborn, unwilling to leave their homeworld for somewhere easier even with the ‘gate just a stone's throw away from their settlement.

John’s muscles burned with the work. The men and women spread out in the paddock around him were sweating and panting but still ploughing. He sighed and straightened up, closing his eyes and running a hand through his hair. When they’d come to the Pegasus Galaxy, he’d been okay with it because he thought he could make a difference, that there was still a war to be fought, but this?

Hericia was the third of the five addresses given to them by the barman back on PGX-713. The first was nothing more than two walls with some graffiti carved into what remained of a stained-glass window, all the consoles and technology long since scavenged. Rodney had spent two days scanning and recalibrating and scanning again to see if there was more of the structure underground without any luck. The second address led them to a bombed out ruin with equal parts Wraith and Ancient debris scattering the desert plane surrounding it. McKay had managed to scrounge up a few stunners and some spare control crystals to add to their store but nothing else of use.

Now, they were trading farm work for food and board, thankful simply to be out of the jumper and into proper beds for a while. But John was nearing the end of his patience. He was still a solider, despite what the American military seemed to think, and he had been idle for months now while the Wraith did who knew what and killed who knows how many people across the galaxy.

John slammed the hoe into the dirt with a growl, drawing the eyes of some of the nearby workers. The movement caused his dog tags to dangle out the front of his untied shirt, the light catching them snagging his attention. He sighed, hand closing around the heated metal. He hadn’t quite brought himself to take them off yet, though he knew he should. He didn’t want someone to see them and recognise what they were. The Atlantis teams often worked alongside their trade partners and, like he had that day, would often forgo jackets and shirts. Anyone who had met the people of Earth would likely be able to place the strange metal necklace, unlike anything they’d seen in Pegasus, even from the military minded Genii.

His thumb traced over his name, Major John P. Sheppard, and his ID number. It was his last link to who he’d been, and as much as he didn’t regret where he’d ended up, it was still hard to let go of something that had so defined him for almost half his life. He had to let go of something that he’d believed in. Something that had betrayed him in the end but still.

He groaned, feeling his sore shoulders slump. God, he just wanted to feel useful again. As much as he’d been sceptical to begin with, he had actually enjoyed being in charge, enjoyed having people who counted on him and who he knew he could count on in return. He missed waking up in the morning and having a plan, a direction. He missed having a mission. 

So far, their mission in Pegasus had been to survive. He and Rodney hadn’t really talked about what they wanted to do now that they were here but he supposed they’d have to because, while the humanitarian stuff was all well and good, they could be doing so much _more._

John straightened back up and grabbed his tool. He’d talk to Rodney tonight and as soon as the irrigation repairs were finished, they’d head out, see about finding some action. Satisfied with his plan, he lifted the hoe over his head again.

The ground shook and he stumbled, using the tool to catch himself. The people around him were shouting and screaming in fear, some had branched off and were running back toward the village. John turned to the woman next to him and helped her to her feet as the shaking got more and more intense.

“Get to the ‘gate!” he ordered, pointing her to the rocky plinth visible on the hill over the rooftops. “Dial out, anywhere, it doesn’t matter! If it’s the Wraith-“

She nodded sharply and ran, hiking her skirts up around her knees.

John pounded down the path toward the Ancient building. He had to get to Rodney, fast. He cursed himself for getting complacent and leaving his zat back at the cottage on the _one_ day something had happened.

People were still sprinting past him, even more fearful now that a loud mechanical whine had joined the rumbling. He could see the building ahead, the blue glass windows now glowing sharply. The whine grew louder and the ground gave a violent shudder-

Suddenly, metal pipes rose up from the dirt all around the fields and out into the woods. The whine turned into a sharp hiss and the shaking stopped, people turning to the pipes in fear.

And then water sprayed up into the air, misting over the dry, cracking turf and yellowed crops.

People stared, shocked, as the sun prismed out of the water creating miniature rainbows over the fields. Then all at once, they cheered, running into the downpour and laughing in delight. No one seemed to care at all how the dirt caking their clothes was rapidly turning to mud or how soaked they were getting. Sheer relief flowed like a breeze through the village.

John swept his eyes over the growing crowd and caught Rodney striding grumpily toward him. His entire body was covered in soot and dust, pink skin showing through where he’d obviously tried to scrub his face clean with his equally dirty shirt.

John managed to force down the laughter at his disgruntled expression enough to ask mock sternly, “You couldn’t have given us some kind of warning, Rodney?”

The scientist gave an aggravated sigh and crossed his arms, looking for all the world like a petulant five year old.

“It’s not my fault! A current jumped one of the circuits I was repairing and started an energy build up in the main capacitor. I had to turn the system on to vent the excess power before we all _exploded,_ which wasn’t easy to do since _I hadn’t actually finished the repairs, thank you!”_

John glanced out at the people now doing some kind of ring dance around one of the sprinklers.

“Seems to be working fine,” he commented dryly.

“Yeah, _now!_ Honestly, if I didn’t know how to override the-!”

Rodney cut off with a gasp as John pulled him in for a deep kiss, his face wrinkling at the taste of ash of his lips, before pulling back.

“Good job, McKay,” he grinned.

Rodney huffed and shoved him away. John laughed and joined everyone else under the spray, relishing the closest thing he’d seen to a shower in four months.

…

That night, they had a massive feast with Rodney as the guest of honour. John watched, amused as McKay shifted uncomfortably in his seat next Arcus, a man in his mid-fifties, old by Pegasus standards, with greying hair and sharp eyes that had been introduced to them as the Mayor of Hericia. He had spent a good portion of the night sniffing delicately all the food that was placed in front of him and questioning everyone on the contents even though he’d done all the research on their first night in the village and found that none of them had even heard of citrus before. At the same time, he was fending off requests for dances and more than one offer of marriage.

That last one had made John’s hackles go up and after the third most insistent request, he’d finally risen from his place at the end of the table to neatly insert himself between Rodney and the overly forward woman, Reelah if he remembered correctly. She’d huffed indignantly and stomped off to join the gaggle of women by the fire, talking animatedly and flinging dark looks back at him. He’d simply raised an eyebrow at her and leaned his full weight against Rodney’s side. McKay rolled his eyes but shifted to accommodate him better. This had the entertaining benefit of making Reelah go positively red and storm away from the festivities.

Satisfied, John went back to picking at his food and half listening to Rodney explain how the hydroelectric power generators in the irrigation facility worked to a group of young Hericians who looked confused but raptured by the information. 

Naien, the youngest of the lot, was practically glued to Rodney’s other side and had been since the day they arrived. John had watched the young orphan trot around in Rodney’s shadow like an imprinting duckling, hands full of wires and face covered in grease, acting as a pseudo lab assistant while McKay worked on the repairs. He had a thirst for knowledge and revelled in being around someone with new information who was more than happy to share. For his part, Rodney was indulging his questions while simultaneously trying to unstick the kid’s hands from his arm. Sheppard was amused to note the lack of McKay’s usual biting commentary as he talked to him, finding the self-censorship oddly adorable knowing how awkward the scientist was with children.

It was late in the evening and the night was just beginning to wind down when the sound of chevrons engaging reached them at the bonfire in the town square. John bolted upright, dislodging Rodney from where they’d been propping each other up, and reached for the zat he’d retrieved when they returned to town.

“That will be my brother, Dinae returning,” Arcus assured them. “He was away to trade with our cousins from Illora.”

John subsided slightly but kept one hand on his weapon and the other on Rodney, eyes still turned to the ‘gate. 

That was why he was up before the sound of the first dart even broke through the event horizon.

“Wraith!” he warned as he jumped to his feet, dragging Rodney with him. 

People screamed and scattered in all directions, Arcus shouting and attempting to direct people to the woods where it would be harder for the darts to reach them. A distant part of John noted Naien calling for McKay as he was swept up by a woman and hurried away, but he couldn’t stop, even when Rodney made a distressed sound and tugged on his hand. The ships were closing fast. 

John ripped his zat from its holster and kept running, keeping his grip on Rodney as they wove through the throng of scared people, screaming for them to follow him, turning as many people as he could toward the trees. Arcus was right behind them, bellowing for people to stay calm.

“Sheppard-“ Rodney panted.

“The jumper. We can squeeze a dozen or so.”

“Not with all our supplies-!”

“We’ll manage-“

“-and what about the rest? There are four hundred people in this village-“

“McKay!” he interrupted savagely, pulling him around to stare at John’s face, at the desperation. “I don’t want to hear it! We will save as many as we can.”

Rodney stared at him for a moment. His mouth twisted into a grim line and he nodded. They turned back to the woods.

A Wraith beam impacted the grass in front of them, depositing four drones in their path. John had his zat up before they had even finished materialising. He remembered the instructions Rodney had given him upon being handed the strange weapon; squeeze the grip, one shot stuns, two shots kills, three disintegrates.

He lined up the target and fired off two shots in quick succession. He’d already switched to the next one before he realised that the first Wraith was still standing. His eyes widened as he fired at the new one, a half dozen blasts this time. The Wraith was knocked back a step but still didn’t go down because of course, of _course-_

He had just enough time to register the drone raising it’s stunner and to step in front of the unarmed Rodney before his world was awash in blue light and pain.

…

When he came to, his body was crawling with the pins and needles sensation he’d come to associate with waking up in a Wraith cell. The distinctly damp smell and the slightly squishy, slimy texture of the ground he lay on was only further proof of that. He forced himself to open his eyes despite the pounding in his skull. Several faces were looking down at him in varying levels of concern and hope, some he recognized and others he didn’t. None of them were the face he was looking for.

He levered himself onto his elbows and a hand reached down to assist him. He followed it up to see Arcus watching him with pitying eyes. Oh no…

“Sheppard,” he said slowly.

“Where is he?” he asked immediately. No one would meet his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat and asked again, “Where’s Rodney?”

“He is not here,” he answered. “Everyone from the village who did not escape before us is in one of these three cells. No one has seen him since we awoke.”

The knot in his chest tightened.

“That doesn’t mean anything. He probably ran into the forest with the others,” he reasoned.

“Maybe I don’t know him as well as you,” Arcus said with an unconvinced frown, “but I do not believe he would leave you behind.”

John tried not to let the truth of that pain him as much as it did.

Rodney wouldn’t leave him alone. Either he was here somewhere or-

“Why aren’t we in one of those cocoon things?” he asked, desperately trying to distract himself from the dark path his thoughts had taken.

He could do this, he _had_ done this, on more than one occasion. He just had to concentrate, push everything else to the side. There were innocent people here, children among them, and he had to get them out of this alive. There was no ‘or’. Rodney was here somewhere, and he needed Sheppard to take care of the civilians while he found a way to get them out.

“I don’t know,” Arcus answered. “They said they needed information. They took your pendant.”

John grabbed at where his dog tags usually hung and swore. He knew he should have taken them off. On the other hand…

“That’ll buy us some time at least. They won’t kill me until I tell them what I know.”

Time to do what, though, he had no idea. He turned to the door as he heard the ordered clip of boots moving down the corridor, straightening his spine and squaring his shoulders. He hoped, wherever he was, Rodney had a plan.

…

Rodney really wished he was better at the whole ‘planning’ thing. Not that he didn’t have plans, he actually had quite a few, mostly involving John. When he had time, plans were great and it was always satisfying when they came together. But in the heat of the moment, when the pressure was on, Rodney was always more of a ‘by the seat of your pants’ kind of guy and it was just the pure luck of his inherent genius that let most everything work out okay.

Now, as he was piloting the cloaked jumper into the dart bay of a Wraith cruiser, he really, _really_ wished he had thought of something beyond simply getting in and getting John back. It was like Leavenworth all over again except then, he’d at least had a few weeks’ worth of options laid out in spreadsheets and maps and statistics.

When John had gone down, Rodney’s primal instincts had taken over. He’d ducked behind the frozen Arcus, who took the next stun blast, and disappeared into the forest with the rest of the fleeing townspeople.

He wasn’t proud of what he’d done, using an old man as a shield, and something inside him had broken in an indescribable way when he’d left John on the ground, stunned and utterly defenceless, something that he didn’t think would be truly fixed until he had him in his arms and could whisper his apologies into his skin. But he knew the chances if they both got taken, especially now that they had no backup coming.

He’d made it back to the jumper in record time, several people following behind him into the hatch until the space was crammed with crying, bleeding, terrified people. He cloaked and took off, flying a ways away from the town into some low mountains near a deep indent in the rock that could provide some amount of shelter. He lowered the ramp and yelled for everyone to get the hell out. They scrambled to follow his directions and he warned them not to come out until they heard the darts leave.

He tore off back to the town, watched the Wraith ships start disappearing into the ‘gate one by one. He forced more speed out of the jumper, silently begged it to move just that little bit faster. The last dart swept down low, aligning itself for entry. Rodney screamed with no one to hear him as he thundered closer, his normally shaky piloting turned deadeye in his desperation to thread the needle. It was a near thing, he could practically feel it as the event horizon snapped closed behind him. He emerged through a space gate on the other side and almost forgot that the Stargate’s docking procedures had disengaged the cloak. He slapped the control to turn it back on, heart pounding in his chest as he waited to see whether any of the darts had noticed.

By some miracle, they were all too preoccupied with the load of food they were carrying to be checking their scanners. Rodney felt his shoulders loosen slightly as he followed the swarm toward the cruiser orbiting a craggy wasteland of a planet. It was alone as far as he could tell, no hives in sight and nothing showing on the jumper’s HUD. Rodney wondered what they were doing out in the middle of nowhere. Cruisers were usually the honour guard for queens and with no hives around, one little cruiser wasn’t exactly a threat to anyone.

Rodney frowned in thought as he crept silently into the dart bay, carefully navigating the other ships as their automatic docking engaged and they moved in ordered patterns to deposit their captures and land in the berths off to the side. He watched until he saw a group of Hericians materialise on the jutting walkway, unconscious and muddled together but with a distinct head of unruly dark hair amongst them. His breath left him in a whoosh.

“Oh, thank god,” he breathed. He didn’t think they’d just feed on him since they were culling the whole town but there was always a chance.

He watched carefully as a group of drones emerged from a nearby corridor and started gathering up the Hericians one or two at a time. He noticed one of them pause and lean in to inspect John closer. Rodney felt his mind twitch toward the fire command, laser focused on the location of the creature’s hands. 

A male overseeing the transport hissed at it. It snarled back. The male pulled a stunner and shot the drone, watching apathetically as it tumbled over the walkway. Rodney flinched at the audible thunk as it impacted a passing dart and continued down into the depths of the cruiser, disappearing from sight.

Wraith were the _worst._

The male came forward and grabbed John himself, dragging him bodily in the same direction as the others. Rodney pulled up the scanner on the HUD and tried to map the inside of the cruiser as he watched the turns the human lifeforms were taking as they were led away. When they finally came to a stop all clustered together, he assumed they must have arrived at the cells. He quickly loaded the map data onto his handheld scanner and moved the puddle jumper toward a clear area a few levels down.

Based on what he knew of Wraith tech, he had about thirty minutes until the stunner wore off and they’d start in on the questions and torture and death. Thirty minutes to come up with a plan and get John the hell away from there. He glanced back at the crate of weapons stacked on the chair behind him.

Yeah, he could do thirty minutes.

…

John kept his head high as he was marched down the corridors of the ship. He couldn’t tell how big it was from the inside but, given the small amount of Wraith he’d actually seen, he’d guess it was a cruiser. Then again, it could be a hive with most of its occupants still in hibernation. That possibility drastically reduced his chances of survival though, so he chose to believe otherwise.

When they’d come for him, they hadn’t said anything, just grabbed his arm, tossed him into the hallway and pressed a gun to his back to hurry him along. It didn’t really help with his information gathering but he was thankful they hadn’t touched Arcus or his people. They were only interested in him.

Hoo-goddamn-ray.

He was counting his steps, as well as he could anyway, given all the rooms in these places looked the _same._ He was already starting to get hopelessly lost. If nothing else, it was at least helping to keep his mind off Rodney who still hadn’t shown up. 

He tried not to worry; he knew it wouldn’t do any good. But Rodney, for all he’d changed in the last year and a half, was still not a soldier. He may have gotten John out of prison but there was a big difference between forging some transfer orders and storming an enemy stronghold. All it would take would be one slip up, one corner peeked too early, one fumbled piece of equipment, and it would be over. He’d be caught and in a cell right next to John or he’d be fed on, maybe to death, and that was just-

He bit his tongue to keep the distress from showing on his face. He tried to have more faith in Rodney, he really did, but it was his job to look after him and that feeling had only grown since they’d become intimate, never mind the fact that he owed the man more than he could ever repay. 

John had been wishing for some action but the further into the lion’s den they walked, the more he wished he was right back at their peaceful bonfire, leaning against each other with the promise of a warm bed in their near future. 

Finally, they rounded a last corner and the drone to his right swiped its hand over a panel on the wall, the membrane-like door retracting. He was shoved in before his guards and he found himself in a large hall, much like he’d seen on that first hive ship what felt like a lifetime ago. In the middle was a table, but rather than being laden with food, it held a horrible assortment of medical implements. Some were easily recognisable, scalpel, bonesaw, forceps, others only familiar in the way they sent ice shooting through his veins. There weren’t any straps but the solid grip on his bicep made him sure that they wouldn’t be needed.

Beyond that, there was a high-backed throne made from the same dark organic material as all Wraith things, a soft yellow glow emanating from the centre. Sitting primly on its edge was a male Wraith, characteristic long hair swept into a low ponytail that only served to further exaggerate his cutting cheekbones and the sickly hue of his green skin. There was a line of four black triangles in alternating orientations along the top of his left brow that arched delicately as he observed their entrance.

The drone pulled him forwards, another at his back poking him with the stun rifle when he resisted. John didn’t really think he’d get anywhere, but why make it easier on them, right?

As he was led around the table, he noticed a small console of some kind tucked into an alcove off to one side, a second maskless Wraith leant over it, fingers flying. He couldn’t tell what was on the screens, the yellow projections showing no language he could decipher even with the limited Ancient he’d been picking up in Atlantis. He thought maybe it was numbers or statistics, given that the maskless male Wraith all tended to be scientists of some description. 

It could also be Minesweeper.

The drone must have decided Sheppard was staring too much because it thumped him in the side of the head with the rifle, staggering him forward a few steps. The one holding his arm dragged him upright. John tried not to notice the strange bumpy texture of the feeding mark on it’s hand or the sharp bite of it’s nails as it tightened it’s grip.

He was led the last few steps to the space in front of the throne. His shoulders wanted to climb when he noticed how close his back was to the table, how easy it would be for one of them to shove him back, feeding hand coming down on his chest, his shirt not even providing the slightest defence. It took considerable effort to maintain his usual casual slouch, hip cocked, arms loose, unconcerned smirk, but damned if the annoyed snarl of the Wraith opposite him didn’t just make his day.

The creature swept up to his feet and stalked down the three steps at the base of the throne, not taking his eyes off of him for a moment.

“John Sheppard,” he said, the typical Wraith hissing on the ‘s’ and low growl on the ‘r’ dragging the name out so it hung uncomfortably in the air between them.

“Who?” he replied, laying on the ‘idiot human’ schtick.

The Wraith hissed and rushed forward into John’s personal space, enough that he could smell the worst morning breath he’d ever encountered and see the glistening of saliva on his fangs. He held the dog tags up between them.

“Your identification methods are primitive but informative. You are Major Sheppard of Atlantis.”

Damn, damn and double damn. He really wished he hadn’t accidentally made himself so infamous with these guys.

“Found that in the dirt when I went to the market,” he denied, hoping to stall for time. “Thought it looked cool, very industrial chi-“

The air punched out of his throat as the Wraith’s fist connected with his stomach, dropping him to his knees. He groaned, thinking of the bruises sure to be left over. Rodney was going to fuss over them for weeks.

“You are Major John Sheppard and you will tell me what I wish to know!” he hissed, hand wrapping around John’s neck and forcing his head up, throat bared.

“Now, Greg,” he drawled, “is this any way to make friends?”

The Wraith, ‘Greg’ growled and leaned down until he was nose to nose with John.

“If you do not tell me, I will take the years from you piece by piece until you are more agreeable,” he threatened.

Sheppard could feel the feeding mark pressed against his neck, could remember Colonel Sumner kneeling on the floor in a room just like this and the life slowly draining out of him. He had hoped to grow old with Rodney, flying around Pegasus, helping people. But if doing this would save McKay or…

Or if he was already gone, he forced himself to think, then what the hell?

He made himself look Greg dead in the eye, body relaxed and airy, as he said, “I was hoping to retire early anyway.”

The Wraith snarled and raised his free hand, fingers curled into a claw ready to dig into his flesh.

…

Rodney poked his head around the next corner. His heart leapt into his throat as he saw the platoon of drones march down the hall, ducking back to safety. He pressed his head back into the wall and closed his eyes as he willed his breathing to steady.

Why the hell was he doing this again? Oh, right, because he’d gone and fallen for the galaxy’s most attractive bad luck magnet. Was it really so hard for them to get two weeks of peace while they looked for a new home?

The sound of booted feet retreated and Rodney let out a sigh, opening his eyes and fumbling out the scanner from where he’d tucked it into the waist of his pants. He missed his coat and its seemingly endless pockets. He’d left it in their room on Hericia, the leather sweltering in a binary star system. They’d been on guard for weeks, moving planets every few days, talking to as little people as possible, and the one time they relaxed…

He didn’t know what he expected, really. This was _their_ lives they were talking about. A year ago he’d been perfectly content on his little Antarctic research base, no friends to speak of, and now he was sneaking around an alien spaceship with a P-90 in his hands and a bag of C4 strapped to his back scared that the one person in the universe he cared about more than himself was already laying on the ground somewhere, a lifeless husk with ridiculous goddamn hair. When he got Sheppard back, they were going to be having _words._ Right after he kissed him senseless for scaring him. And in the morning, he was going to ask Arcus about where he could find the Pegasus equivalent of a priest because there was no way John wasn’t cursed or something.

Rodney checked his scanner, saw the coast was clear and moved forwards. He wasn’t entirely sure what the door he was after would look like but he figured ‘big’ and ‘important’ pretty much summed it up. Find the engine room, plant the explosives, get John and get out. So simple, what could go wrong?

He hated being a genius when his brain helpfully flooded itself with the endless possibilities.

His scanner beeped softly, detecting an energy signature coming from behind the door to his right. He paused. His curiosity was peaked but the timer in his head kept ticking down. He glanced at the scanner again. No lifesigns in the room, Wraith or otherwise. He had time for a quick look.

He opened the door and slipped inside. The room was small, almost closet like, and in its centre was a glowing Wraith terminal.

“Hello…”

He bit his lip. This was a great opportunity to go digging inside Wraith systems but the time… Rodney clenched his fists. He could spare a few minutes. If he found something they could use, like weapons schematics or ship designs, Sheppard would forgive him for being a few minutes late.

He opened his pack and retrieved his tablet, shoved the connection into the terminal. His translation software was still rough but passable. His screen lit up with the root directory for the entire cruiser.

“Come to papa,” he muttered, fingers flicking through the different screens. He opened a log file and froze. “Oh,” he breathed, blinking at the information. His mind whirred as an idea started to take form. “That could work.”

He dropped his pack on the floor and bent further over the tablet. This was much more his style, anyway. 

…

John flinched as the arm descended. The scientist hissed. Greg paused and hissed back, arm falling back to his side. Sheppard let out a shaky breath of relief as he watched the conversation continue, the cadence growing more and more frustrated. At a sharp gesture from the scientist, Greg snarled, jerked his hand away from his neck and marched over to the console, the tags dropping carelessly to the floor. John’s muscles unbunched a fraction, though he wasn’t sure how long that would last given whatever was happening seemed to be enough to cause tension not just in the scientists, but the drones as well. Until this point, John hadn’t even been sure if the drones were sentient, never mind capable of feeling nervous.

Sheppard very carefully bent and retrieved his tags, slipping them back over his head. The drones seemed to be too busy eavesdropping to pay much attention to him. He glanced over at the stunner attached to the left one’s thigh, but his chances of making it to the door with only the one weapon and four Wraith to contend with didn’t look good. He turned to the right and noticed a Wraith grenade on the belt of the other one, perfectly in his eyeline.

They must be sentient, he decided, because the scientist Wraith would never be this stupid. All he needed was something to keep them occupied while he-

The ship rocked alarmingly, a loud explosion jolting the whole room sideways and damn it, he was getting really tired of having his thoughts interrupted today!

The Wraith all stumbled and John didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the stunner with his left hand and snatched the grenade with his right. He leapt up and over the edge of the table, rolling to the floor on the side furthest from Greg and his buddy at the console. The ship rocked again, a deep _boom_ reverberating through the decks. The drones were moving to follow him. He twisted the grenade, the activation lights coming on, and lobbed it over their heads to the two maskless Wraith, firing off a few shots and ducking back behind cover.

He scrambled low along the floor, return fire zipping over his head.

“Sheppard-!” Greg screamed.

An explosion ripped through the hall, heat and fire at his back, knocking John to the deck. He got back to his feet and turned. Greg and the scientist were both on the ground, neither moving, surrounded by the charred remains of the console. The two drones were still staggering to their feet. He fired off his stunner. Two landed right in the chest, dropping the first creature. The other dove out of the way.

The ship rolled again and the sounds of a frantic retreat reached his ears from beyond the door. John ran, firing backwards all the way. He bolted through the door and slammed into another body. He whirled, gun up.

“John!” Rodney breathed, eyes wide.

“McKay!” he answered with a relieved grin. “About damn time!”

“Well, _sorry_ I had an entire cruiser full of _Wraith to avoid_ while saving your life!” he huffed, the edge of a smile on his mouth.

John’s own smile widened as he pulled him in for a kiss. Rodney was alive, he was okay, thank god, thank _god,_ he thought as his hand fisted in his shirt, hauling him as close as they could get.

Another explosion rocked the floor, staggering them apart. A stun blast flew between them, missing their noses by millimetres. The last drone had made it’s way to the door and John shot it, watching with satisfaction as it collapsed to the floor. Rodney grabbed his hand and started towing him away.

“Escape now, ‘thank god you’re alive’ sex later,” he declared.

“Sounds like a plan,” John laughed. The ship shuddered, the screaming sounds of rending metal joining the symphony of destruction. They broke into a jog. “What the hell is going on? What did you do, Rodney?”

They rounded a corner, bouncing off the wall in their haste. There weren’t any Wraith around which was either very good or very, very bad.

“Well, I thought it was weird, you know, a single cruiser out in the middle of nowhere, all on its own, so I found a terminal and I hacked the ship’s log,” he panted, hiking his pack up on his shoulders and adjusting his grip on his P-90, not breaking stride. “Turns out these guys are deserters, commandeered the ship and snuck away right under the queen’s nose.”

“So?” John asked, grabbing Rodney’s arm to steady him as the ship rocked alarmingly. He was pretty sure they were running out of time to do whatever McKay had planned.

“So, I activated their subspace beacon to signal the hive.”

John’s attention snapped to Rodney, incredulous.

“You brought the hive _here?”_ he demanded, fingers tightening around his weapon. Of all the idiotic, insane, _ridiculous-_ “Why the hell would you do that?!”

Rodney rolled his eyes, glancing down at his scanner to check their location.

“You obviously haven’t brushed up on your Wraith social structures. They’re incredibly hierarchical,” he explained, setting off again down the corridor. “Dissension in the ranks is a sign of weakness. So if the queen doesn’t quell the rebellion-”

“The others would start trying to pick her off,” John finished, impressed despite the incredulous fear still burning in his gut. “When did you even find the time to look up Wraith social structures?”

“Somewhere between certain death and impending doom,” he snarked, turning to give him a sharp smile. “Know your enemy and all that, right?”

John just shook his head. Their situation wasn’t great, trapped on a cruiser with minimal weapons, just the two of them, and it was about to be blown up by a vengeful Wraith queen. Adrenalin pounded through his veins, his heart roaring, feet flying.

He’d _missed this._

Not the possibility of dying, of course, but the thrill of doing something worth a damn. Despite what he’d been thinking as he was led down these halls scant minutes ago, he had missed the surge of pride he got when he was working to take down the bad guys. He loved the quiet moments he had with Rodney but he waited for the times when he could make a difference again.

A big part of him was afraid that Rodney had gotten used to the quiet life, that he was content to just settle down on a farm somewhere and keep on as they had been for the past two months, working and trading and otherwise staying put. He didn’t know if he could do that. He was certain that Rodney was it for him but he didn’t know if he could just stand aside while a galaxy burned and he really hoped Rodney wouldn’t ask him to because he honestly didn’t know what he would say.

The sound of panicked shouting broke him from his thoughts. He recognized the rows and rows of barred doors lining the corridor they were in and further down, he could see hands reaching between the vine-like blockages, desperately scratching at the walls. He shook the melancholy away. He had more important things to worry about right now.

They ran the last few steps, Rodney not sparing a glance at the Hericians as he pulled a knife from the top of his boot and stabbed into the wall opposite the cells, revealing the veiny structures that were Wraith wiring. John turned to the cell he’d been removed from, spotting the oldest face in the crowd.

“Arcus, get everyone ready to move,” he instructed. “We’re going to have to run, we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Run where, Sheppard?” the man asked fearfully. “We are on one of their ships, are we not? There is nowhere to go!”

The crowd around him whispered and sobbed, clutching at each other in despair.

“The dart bay,” John said loudly, authority dripping from his voice, forcing attention from everyone present. “They brought us up in ships, we can go down in ships.”

“Sheppard…” Rodney warned. “We can’t fit all these people in the jumper.”

“I’ll fly a dart. Put everyone in storage and gate back to Hericia.”

Rodney looked up from the panel, shock and disbelief colouring his face.

“You can’t even read Wraith! How are you supposed to fly a dart?” he demanded.

“I can fly everything else! How hard can it be?” John replied flippantly.

Rodney gaped at him for a moment, sputtering as he no doubt tried to come up with a response appropriately scathing for his remark when the ship lurched harshly. A siren started blaring and doors whooshed closed all along the corridor. McKay’s shock turned to fear in an instant.

“The hull’s breached. They’re compartmentalising to prevent total decompression. We have to go _now!”_

He jammed his knife into the wall and the cell doors opened. John didn’t hesitate, just began herding everyone out into the hall. 

“Rodney!” a small voice called and he turned. 

Naien pushed out from one of the cells further down and sprinted toward them, throwing his arms around Rodney’s middle and burying his face in his stomach. John watched with a smile as McKay’s eyes closed in relief, his hand cradling the back of the kid’s head. The ship shuddered again, jolting them out of the moment.

“Right, that’s enough of that,” he said, voice slightly choked with emotion Sheppard decided to politely ignore. “You want to just stand around until we all get sucked out into space?” Naien’s eyes widened comically and he shook his head. “Didn’t think so. Now, let go so I can go back to saving everyone’s lives.”

Rodney gently removed the boy’s arms, shoved his knife away, grabbed his gun and moved to the front of the group, scanner held up as he led the way forward. John ruffled Naien’s hair, giving the boy a reassuring grin, and joined him, stunner poised.

He wasn’t surprised anymore that he’d gotten lost, despite his normally strong sense of direction. The entire ship was a maze of tunnels and pathways, no signs or guideposts in sight. Harder to escape when you can’t be sure where you’re going. The thirty or so people crowded behind them were hanging from each other’s hands and jackets trying to keep the group together. Rodney moved with sure steps, eyes frantically flicking from the path ahead to the map in his hand, watching for Wraith lifesigns.

They hadn’t come across any parts of the ship exposed to the vacuum of space yet but it was only a matter of time. The sounds of the battle outside were growing even more intense, the whirring of Wraith darts and wailing alarm occasionally eclipsed by the roar of explosions. Finally, the hall opened up into the large honeycombed space that housed hundreds of darts.

Or it normally did.

Everywhere they looked, the alcoves were empty, not a ship left in sight.

“They’ve abandoned ship,” John cursed.

“What will we do?” Arcus asked desperately. Some of the Hericians had closed their eyes, hands linked together, muttering prayers to the Ancestors. At this point, John was considering joining them.

“There!” Rodney called, pointing.

At the other end of the platform was a single dart, canopy still retracted and pilot seat vacant.

John almost let himself be relieved but because this was his life, just as he stepped forward, a door on one of the adjoining platforms opened and Greg stumbled his way through. The Wraith’s eyes flicked between him and the remaining dart.

“Oh, come _on!”_

They both pushed off at the same time, running to the ship, their only way off the doomed cruiser.

“Sheppard!” Rodney called worriedly.

“Get everyone into position!” he ordered.

Those months in hyperspace had damaged his endurance and he’d only just begun reconditioning his muscles with the heavy farm work of the last few weeks, but desperation fuelled him, his legs eating up the distance. He pounded down the last few metres, reaching the dart moments before the injured Wraith. John clambered up the side and reached for the edge of the cockpit. Greg wrapped a hand around his calf and yanked with a vicious snarl, sending him to the ground. John rolled and kicked out, catching him in the knee. Greg went down. John scrambled up and took aim with his stunner but Greg charged, ramming his shoulder into Sheppard’s chest and driving him into the floor. The gun skittered out of reach and over the edge of the platform. He gasped in pain, the air driven from his lungs by the impact. Greg was back, towering over him, feeding hand coming down in sickening déjà vu. John threw his arms up, catching Greg’s shoulders as he leant down, and twisted, kicking him in the chest. The Wraith went sprawling, body sliding over the edge until only his arms were saving him from falling into oblivion, hissing and growling as he thrashed wildly trying to pull himself back up.

John didn’t waste time watching. He ran to the dart, throwing himself into the cockpit. For a moment, he was stunned by all the unfamiliar controls before instinct kicked in.

“If this was any other plane, canopy control would be…” He reached out on faith and pressed into the squishy yellow biocomponent. An opaque dome appeared over his head covered in the glowing Wraith writing. “Houston, we have lift off,” he grinned.

…

Rodney watched the fight with his heart in his throat, sure that the image of John on his back with the Wraith standing over him poised to strike would be burned into his nightmares forever. When he managed to get the upper hand and make it into the dart, Rodney let himself breathe for the first time in minutes. He turned to the Hericians.

“Alright, everybody line up on the platform,” he instructed. “Close together! Sheppard is going to pick you up in the transport beam. Any kids, with me. We’ll go in my ship.” The cruiser gave a sharp lurch, some of them falling perilously close to the edge. “And hurry up, we don’t have a lot of time!”

They rushed to comply, lining up in a neat row directly under John’s flight path. The seven children hugged their parents, the ones whose parents were there, and gathered behind Rodney.

Naien, the twelve year old boy Sheppard had been jokingly calling his apprentice, took Rodney’s hand and clung to his side. Rodney still didn’t like kids, still didn’t really know what to do with them, but Naien was growing on him. He was more mature than any other kid his age that he had known and, whether that was a product of growing up in Pegasus or not, it made him easier to be around. He just spoke to the kid like any adult, maybe with slightly less insults thrown in, and he took it in stride, not offended by his abrasiveness but more determined to prove himself in the face of Rodney’s challenges. He was a quick study and their shared fascination with technology left the two of them talking for hours despite the kid’s normally quiet nature. It almost made him consider having his own one day. Not that they would technically be _his_ what with neither he nor John having the equipment for that, but if there was one thing Pegasus had in abundance it was orphans.

He tried to give Naien a reassuring smile despite the dark thoughts running through his mind. Based on the way his grip tightened, he didn’t think he succeeded.

By some miracle, Sheppard managed to get the dart off the ground and manoeuvre it to make a low pass over the walkway. The transporter beam engaged, sweeping the Hericians up into storage and the dart turned, flying out the airshield and into the chaos beyond.

“Let’s go.” Rodney tugged on Naien’s hand, leading him to where he had left the cloaked jumper, and the other kids fell into step behind him.

He managed to get everyone in and situated, the hatch closing just in time for an explosion to rock the hanger, large enough that the inertial dampeners couldn’t absorb the full force of the impact, Rodney thrown forward into the back of the pilot’s chair. He scrambled into his seat just as the ground dropped out from under them. The children screamed as debris rained down around them and Rodney wrestled the controls into deploying the drive pods. He flew in a less than straight line toward the exit, partly because he was too frantic to concentrate on finding a direct path and partly to avoid the falling chunks of biometal.

Honestly, if he wasn’t terrified they were going to die at any moment, he might have been impressed that the artificial gravity generator was still going strong.

He could see the entrance growing bigger in his windshield, dart bay doors still wide open with no one left at the controls. So close, so very close-

The jumper jerked downward. The HUD sprang to life with flashing red damage warnings. Rodney cursed. A piece of the ceiling had impacted the right drive pod. They were flying half power and at an angle. A proximity warning sounded. Rodney pulled on the controls but it was like trying to steer a wet brick. There was a thunk and a jump as another piece clipped the rear flank. Rodney gritted his teeth and willed the jumper to go faster.

Naien had closed his eyes and was chanting under his breath, an Ancient prayer Rodney recognised from around the village. He didn’t believe in gods but the Ancients were as close as he could get. Rodney started to chant mentally as well.

The airshield was right there. A loud crash, the jumper spun and skidded off the edge of the door and they were out. The space around the cruiser was swarming with darts, all firing on each other. The hive ship loomed menacingly in the distance like a great shadow over the smouldering wreckage that had once been hers to command. Rodney quickly checked that the cloak was still undamaged and engaged, breathing evening out to something approaching normal when he found it was.

They were limping along, barely doing a quarter of the jumper’s usual speed, but they were still hidden, still safe. The spacegate wasn’t far from where the battle was taking place and Rodney crossed his fingers in the hopes that they were all too engrossed to notice the gate going active.

He caught sight of a dart skirting the edges of the conflict, wading its way through the floating wreckage toward the ‘gate.

He turned to Naien who was staring at him with wide, trusting eyes.

“Right, okay, let’s get you home then, shall we?”

…

The feast that night was not as big and not nearly as carefree. Not everyone had made it to the woods. Those that remained were thankful to John and Rodney for rescuing their people but the event was still clouded in loss. Dinae, Arcus’ brother had returned while they’d been occupied and had spent the afternoon rallying the survivors and seeing to the dead. Like his brother, he was tall and broad-shouldered from years of labour, a slight slouch in his posture like most men who had shot up too quickly. All the stories they’d heard had spoken of an easy-going man with smiles and stories abound. There was none of that tonight.

“We are going to move everyone to Illora after the ceremony,” he’d said sadly, eyes roaming the sprinkler poles and the already healthier looking fields with disappointment. “It’s not safe for us to remain here. The Wraith will come looking for someone to blame for this mess with the deserters.”

“Actually, I think you’ll be fine,” Rodney dismissed around his mouthful of meat. He was reclined on a log bench near the fire, Naien propped up against his side with a sleepy Schrodinger in his lap allowing the cautious petting of someone who’d never seen a cat before. Rodney had since given up attempting to remove the kid from his space and was instead using his head as a table to hold his plate. John was standing protectively over them, arms crossed loosely and an inquiring quirk to his brow.

“What do you mean?”

“The queen won’t want anyone to know what happened. If she tries to wipe out your village before your population has grown enough for a proper culling, the others will get suspicious. I thought the gossip mill in Atlantis was bad. The Wraith make talking to the anthropologists feel like trying to find a shred of worthwhile information in Kavanagh’s research.”

Dinae blinked slowly, looking for all the world like he was about to ask what an anthropologist was before he thought better of it.

“That is good news indeed,” he decided. “We are not a warrior people and the few of us that know how to fight have never seen more than a Raider attack.”

“There are raiders around here?” Sheppard asked curiously. Most of the peoples of Pegasus seemed to be more or less united against the Wraith. There were exceptions of course, but there was an air of community that covered the whole galaxy, like they were honour bound to help each other. The idea of raiders seemed so out of place, despite what he knew of how opportunistic humans could be when given the chance.

“The Wave Raiders,” Dinae nodded. “They come through the Ring of the Ancestors and take what they want. They have become more and more bold since the Wraith were woken.” He pointed across the field to a large burnt out structure on the other side. “Last time they came, they stole what they could carry from our storehouse and set the rest alight. That is why we can’t afford to lose any more crops. We will not survive the winter.”

John frowned, not liking the sound of these guys. Pegasus was hard enough to survive without torching each other’s food. He shared a look with Rodney who glanced at Naien and nodded.

“Well, we happen to know a planet that has fields of retsa as far as the eye can see,” Sheppard said. “That should hold you over until the harvest.”

Dinae looked absolutely floored. He swept the both of them up in a crushing embrace, thanked them profusely and went to tell Arcus of the good news.

The night was a bit livelier after that, the air of mourning lifted in the face of new hope.

They retired slowly, John and Rodney meandering back to their room in Arcus’ hut. The village was filled with simple wooden structures, no weatherboarding or brickwork, just something easy to replace when the Wraith eventually showed up to cause chaos. None of the doors had locks, so they pushed in and clambered up the stairs. The house was dark without any fires yet lit but warm from the heat of the day. John navigated the steps and led them into their room with ease, keeping a hand on Rodney’s elbow when he stumbled, groaning all the way about the lack of modern amenities, like lightbulbs.

The rambling helped quell some of John’s nerves as he watched Rodney strip off his boots and wash his face with the basin and pitcher on the nightstand. He knew they would have to talk about it, he couldn’t not bring it up, but the fear was still there. He wanted to do this, he needed to, but he didn’t know if they were on the same page about this.

“-and why are you just standing there with the Face on?” Rodney asked. John blinked back to the present.

“What face?” he asked.

“The Serious Conversation Face. What happened? Did I say something wrong in front of the locals again? Because you know 485 wasn’t my fault and I-“

“McKay,” he interrupted, Rodney’s jaw snapping shut. There was a tension in his shoulders like he was preparing for a blow. John sighed and tried to work out how to deliver it. “What we did today, with the cruiser and helping those people, felt… good. Really good, and I think it’s what I want to keep doing. I know it’s dangerous and stupid and we don’t have any backup, but we can make a difference here and I want to.” John shifted nervously, eyes fixed on Rodney’s blank expression. “I know that it’s been good these last few months and if you don’t want to help me, that’s fine, we can find somewhere for you to wait or-or set up a rendezvous point or something. But I really…” He sighed, fell into parade rest. “I really think I need to keep doing this.”

Rodney’s eyes didn’t move for a moment, stuck boring into his own. John’s stomach clenched painfully, nails digging into his hidden hands as he watched his mouth twist slowly. McKay turned and reached for his bag where he’d dropped it on their return.

John felt his world implode. He’d known Rodney probably wouldn’t want to come with him on these missions, probably thought he was suicidal for even attempting them, but he had never considered _this._ He’d never thought Rodney would leave him for it. He knew in some distant part of his mind that it made sense, that Rodney wouldn’t want to just sit around waiting for the day he eventually got himself killed but he couldn’t get around the absolute confusion and hurt. Rodney was it. They were supposed to spend their lives together. John hadn’t even considered a future where that wasn’t the case. And now he was going to walk out that door and John was never going to see him again. He saw his life stretch out before him; waking up alone, fighting alone, going to sleep alone, dying _alone._ Horror rolled through him in nauseating waves.

He was going to take it all back. He could live without being a hero but he couldn’t live knowing Rodney was out there somewhere and he couldn’t have him. His mouth was already open when McKay turned back, grabbed his hand and slapped something into it.

“Here,” he said.

John stared at his face. There was no anger or resentment, no sadness, just a wry little smile. He looked down at what he’d been handed. It was a familiar black device, pear-shaped with two metal prongs at the smaller end and a line of ridges down the middle.

“Is this…?” he asked, wonder creeping into his voice as he looked back up. Rodney was rolling his eyes exasperatedly.

“Did you really think I’d let you go out there on your own? You have a self-destructive streak a mile wide! You’d never make it to the first rendezvous point. I’ve invested too much time into you for you to just go off and die on the first mission,” he ranted, grabbing the Wraith data device from his hands. “With this at least we should know where to look, maybe get some floorplans or schematics that we can use to come up with a proper plan so we don’t end up-“

John kissed him hard and fierce, and Rodney returned it with equal fervour. He hummed quietly, hand reaching up to thread through John’s hair. Sheppard sighed happily.

Together. They were going to do this together.

Rodney suddenly pushed him away, glaring at him.

“And stop using your mouth to cut me off! It’s very distracting and totally unfair.”

John grinned and pulled Rodney close again, his fingers on his hips aligning them deliciously.

“I think you said something about ‘thank god you’re alive’ sex,” he rumbled lowly.

Even in a forest full of Wraith, John had never seen Rodney move so fast.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodney and John run into an old friend offworld, find a new home and participate in an alien ritual with unexpected results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I don't know how this keeps happening, I swear I didn't mean for this chapter to be as long as it is. With this, we've made it through the first few paragraphs of ami's version of this story finally *sighs*. This has been a long one, that's for sure. 
> 
> From here, we're starting to see the boys settle down a bit more in Pegasus, their war on the Wraith is picking up and they start picking up a few more friends along the way.
> 
> Hope you all like this, next week: the conclusion and the start of our favourite team coming together!

“I don’t know what you’re expecting to find on this backwater planet, Sheppard, but couldn’t it have waited until tomorrow?” Rodney whined petulantly as they trudged through the marshy wilderness.

They’d been walking for an hour already through a steady downpour. Mud and sludge were caked halfway up Rodney’s legs, water seeping into his boots and through his socks, his hair plastered to his head and rain dripping into his eyes blurring his vision. He swatted aggravatedly at the fern prongs cluttering the virtually non-existent path and tripped over a raised root for the umpteenth time.

“Arru said there was someone with information for us here,” John repeated wearily. “Someone that could help us with the Wraith.”

Arru, the owner of the tavern they’d become regulars in on PGX-713, a planet they’d since learnt was called Kooroombah, was a slimy bastard. Ever since they’d traded him those first space turkeys he’d been keeping an ear to the ground for anything they might be interested in. He had plenty of information, for the right price.

Rodney was deeply uncomfortable with anyone whose palms could so easily be greased. After all, how long would it be until someone offered him ‘the right price’ for information on them?

Over the last few weeks, they’d become something of a pain in the ass to the Wraith and the Genii in equal turn. The information from the Wraith data device had proven useful after all and provided them with the locations of several hive ships. After their first experience with the cruiser, they’d unanimously decided not to do the whole Trojan Horse bit again, whether they’d intended to or not. That left them trying to figure out how two men with a puddle jumper and a dart that they could barely fly were supposed to take out what was, as far as they knew, the most advanced warship in the galaxy.

The nukes had been Rodney’s idea.

After John’s little stunt during the Siege, Rodney had been trying to finish his plans for the remote-controlled jumper in case they needed to make a repeat performance and it was close to completion. They didn’t want to destroy the jumper, the biggest tactical advantage they currently had with its cloaking technology. But the dart, now _that_ they could afford to lose. It only took him a day to rewrite the program for Wraith tech and reroute the flight controls through the jumper. After making a few lazy circles around Hericia to test the signal distance, they were set.

That just left them with the problem of where to acquire a nuke. Rodney could build a bomb with his eyes closed of course, but he still needed the uranium otherwise he’d never be able to achieve a high enough explosive yield to destroy a hive.

“I know a place,” Sheppard had said slyly.

They had managed to wheedle the location of a Genii research lab out of Arru in exchange for a Wraith stunner and a few bottles of top shelf Lerikian grog, and they were off. The raid had gone well. They went in stunners hot, made it to the labs, grabbed the uranium and were on their way with zero casualties, Sheppard liberating a few handguns and rifles as they went.

Rodney finished the bomb and their plan went into action. They set the timer to ten seconds and put the bomb into the dart’s storage, effectively pausing the countdown. Then it was a simple matter of remotely flying the ship into the hive’s dart bay, triggering the rematerialisation sequence and watching the secondary explosions tear the ship into chunks in the upper atmosphere of the planet.

It was almost like fireworks.

They’d tried the same strategy a few more times, though with some slight alterations. Without a ship to carry the payload, they’d been forced to try baiting the Wraith into sending darts after them, waiting on the ground with the bomb until the culling beam got close and dodging out of the way at the last moment, watching them take the device and fly off back to their hive.

It worked fairly well but after the third time the dart missed and the bomb almost exploded in their faces and one memorable occasion when Rodney had been scooped up along with it, leaving John to have to shoot down the dart, attempt to reintegrate him _and_ disable the countdown before they both died or more Wraith showed up, they’d decided to go back to more tried and true methods.

Their guerrilla style stealth missions into the Wraith ships were effective but perilous. Sometimes they took out whole hives and other times they barely escaped after destroying a few darts but they had begun making a dent in the Wraith forces. Their reputation had grown along with their kill count. On more than one occasion people had seen the irritable scientist with the glowing rectangle and the soldier with the friendly smile and the hard eyes and the whispers had started.

“It’s them! It’s the Wraith slayers!”

“I heard they saved an entire village from a hive!”

 _“I_ heard they turned the Aderni Alliance against each other and destroyed half their fleet!”

“No, that can’t be right. There’s only two of them!”

Some of the rumours were exaggerated but held a nugget of truth, like that they had saved the Hericians, but it had been a cruiser, not a hive. Others were outright lies; they had _tried_ to turn the Aderni Alliance against each other but had succeeded in little more than copping a large dent in the side of the jumper that Rodney had spent the better part of a week trying to buff out. It was actually the Kirans, a rival Alliance who’d heard about the meeting who had decimated the fleet. Still, Rodney and John were happy to let the rumours go when being kind of famous proved to have some advantages.

Their new reputation meant two things; firstly, they had to stop using their real names when they were out anywhere. The chance that it could make it back to Atlantis was just too great. And secondly, that people were becoming more insistent on helping them. People were excited to see someone fighting and _winning_ against the Wraith in a way no one had done since the Ancestors’ time. People came up to them with information and supplies, a few had even thrown out an offer to join them in their fight.

Rodney could see John considering it more seriously every time it came up. Their jobs weren’t getting any easier the longer they did them and the backup would give them a little more freedom, someone to watch their backs so they didn’t need to worry about leaving their escape route and all their possessions unguarded in a jerry-rigged jumper which could be discovered at any given moment.

He knew what his concerns were; where would they get the equipment? The weapons? How would they train them? Where would they live, what would they eat, what would he tell the families of the ones that didn’t make it? They were all reasonable things for a commanding officer to worry about but Rodney knew it was just a matter of time. Pegasus was a big galaxy, there were a lot of Wraith out there and they couldn’t keep doing this on their own forever. Besides, the people of Pegasus had more reasons to fight than they did. If they were willing to put their lives on the line, Rodney figured they could at least provide them with the skills to improve their chances of coming out the other side.

All of that said, as much as Rodney would like to believe that every offer of assistance they’d received came from genuine interest in assisting the peoples of the galaxy, he couldn’t quite quell the wariness and distrust that years of top secret research had instilled in him.

And a cryptic message left with a shady barkeep that led them into a dense jungle on an absolute _hole_ of a planet on the far edge of the galaxy? Ringing all kinds of alarm bells for him.

“Have we considered that maybe this is a trap? Because I’m not seeing any-” He growled as he fought through another wall of foliage. “-any tents or campfires or whatever we’re supposed to be looking for.”

John glanced back at him with exasperation.

“The Rim is a black-market trading town. It’s not exactly going to be easy to find, is it, Rodney?” he replied, using his hand to wipe some of the rain off his face.

On their last shopping trip, he’d managed to find a black hooded shirt and he’d pulled it up over his head as soon as they stepped through the ‘gate. Not that it seemed to be doing much to keep him dry, the cotton having soaked through almost immediately just like everything else, but Rodney resented the extra layer of protection anyway. Even though the hood pulled down over his eyes made him look oddly adorable. Maybe especially because of that.

“But couldn’t they have put a signpost or something so we at least know we’re going in the right direction?”

“They did,” John said, pointing to a small mark scratched into a tree.

“I was in the middle of jumper repairs,” Rodney whined once more, knowing he was sounding petulant and tiny but it was humid and sticky and everyone knew that after rain in the jungle you got _bugs_ and he was so not looking forward to walking back tonight.

John was laughing at him now, the bastard, and Rodney really wanted to be mad at him except he loved that sound.

“You and I both know that you don’t have the parts to finish the repairs. You’re just grumpy because I made you leave in the middle of teaching Naien how to wire a battery,” he teased.

Rodney’s cheeks flamed. He’d been teaching Naien what he could between missions in case he needed a hand with repairs, that was all. For god’s sake, the kid couldn’t even _spell his own name_ when they’d met. It was appalling, the state of education in this galaxy, and he couldn’t abide idiocy. It wasn’t because he cared, not at all.

“Besides, if what we’ve heard about this place is true, maybe they’ll have what you need,” Sheppard continued, completely ignoring Rodney’s indignant sputtering.

He subsided slightly, still muttering under his breath but conceding the point. Apparently the Rim, the furthest ‘gate-accessible planet in the Pegasus network was a mecca for traders of rare and illegally acquired goods, including Ancient technology and weapons, or so they’d been told.

On their last mission, the jumper had taken a hit that had damaged the coolant system for the drive pods, meaning they couldn’t start them for more than a few minutes lest they risk them burning out and melting through their casing. Rodney was fairly sure some tubing and filament to repair the heat inversion unit would be easier to find than a whole new ion thruster so they’d taken some downtime while they looked for more Ancient ruins to salvage the components from.

The last two addresses on Arru’s list had been even bigger busts than the first three and Rodney hadn’t been able to find more than some carvings on a wall in the Ancient script. Now, they were just working their way through some of the addresses in the database, scouting carefully before making contact to ensure they didn’t cross paths with any of the Atlantis teams.

It was slow going, they’d already been grounded over a week, and if this planet had the things he needed to get them back into the field, or out of the fields in Sheppard’s case, then he could put up with being damp for a while longer.

He occupied his mind with the sway of John’s hips on the path in front of him as they trudged on. He almost didn’t notice when they finally emerged from the tree line into a flat clearing filled to bursting with people.

In front of them was a large stone U-shaped structure surrounding a paved courtyard. Columns, so big McKay couldn’t have touched his fingers if he wrapped his arms around them, rose up at even intervals all around the circumference, holding the roof aloft. Connecting each column to the back wall of the structure was a cloth partition creating around three dozen booths running the inside of the circle. Between the two sides of the complex, awnings were strung in dark greens, keeping a majority of the rain off the main thoroughfare. Rodney noticed that the roof of the building was a similar green to the awnings and with the trees crowding in on every side, you would be hard pressed to see it from the sky. There were a few outbuildings similarly disguised but almost all the traffic was centred around the stalls.

“It’s like a Roman marketplace,” Rodney observed. “Oh, Jackson would lose his mind.”

Sheppard chuckled and started wading into the crowd, Rodney following. The relief of being out the rain was almost immediately eclipsed by the uncomfortable crush of sweaty, unhygienic bodies vying for space at the alcoves. He felt a hand palm his pocket gently but by the time he turned, they were gone.

Rodney checked to make sure everything was where it should be and took a moment to be glad he’d left his pack back in the jumper on Hericia. He kept most of his important items in the inside pockets of his jacket, having already encountered more than one pickpocket on Kooroombah. The only things that should be in his outside pocket were some of the nutbars that Dinae had brought back from Illora and the multitool he never went anywhere without.

That’s why he froze when his fingers brushed against a scrap of paper.

He glanced around again and made sure he was out from under any of the gaps in the awning before he pulled it out and opened it.

_‘Behind Shinarian Moons in 10 minutes. Do not attract attention.’_

Rodney stared at the note, frown forming between his brows. He knew this handwriting. He’d seen it before somewhere, he was sure. And what the hell was ‘Shinarian Moons’?

He looked up and scanned the crowd, blinking when he realised John was no longer beside him. He moved to the line of stalls and slowly started making his way down, eyes sweeping over the faces before him. It didn’t ease the anxiety growing in his stomach when he realised that a good deal of them were covered by masks and hoods. God, anyone could be in this crowd. A _Wraith_ could be hidden here and no one would know.

He’d got about halfway around the building when he spotted John, sodden hood shoved back as he leant over the table barring an alcove entrance.

“She- Maverick,” he called, catching himself at the last second. John looked up from the display laden with several guns in all shapes and sizes, quite a few appearing to be energy weapons of some kind. John was grinning like a kid in a candy store.

“Hey, Doc, look! Space guns!” he declared with a wave toward the guns, his lip twitching with amusement like it always did when they used their codenames.

Rodney had hated his with a passion from the moment John had said it.

“What’s wrong with it?” he’d asked, frowning. “It’s easy to remember. You’re already a doctor and it’s nondescript enough.”

“Because I never know whether you’re talking about Doctor Who, Doc Brown or that stupid fat-nosed dwarf!” Rodney exploded.

John had laughed so hard he’d fallen off his chair and sprained his wrist.

“Maverick, we’ve got a problem,” he said, pulling John away from the stall much to the disgruntlement of both the seller and potential buyer.

Rodney shoved the paper into his hands, watching him frown at it briefly. He lifted it up to his face, squinting at the note.

“I know this writing,” he mumbled.

“Me too,” Rodney nodded. “And given a good portion of our new Pegasus contacts are illiterate, I’m thinking that means it’s someone from Atlantis which begs the question.” He looked at John’s stony expression. “Do we go or do we run?”

A muscle in Sheppard’s jaw twitched, his teeth clenched together as he thought over their options. Rodney knew the second John came to the same conclusion as he had.

“We obviously haven’t been as discrete as we thought. But if they sent a message instead of a squad of marines, then there’s a good chance it’s a friend of ours. And if they found us once, then they can probably find us again.” John sighed, shoving the paper into his pocket. Rodney wrapped his fingers around his wrist, thumb moving in comforting circles. Sheppard smiled tightly. “Might as well go see what they want.”

Rodney nodded as they moved back into the crowd. Some questioning had revealed that Shinarian Moons was the name of an ale house in one of the outbuildings. They were pointed toward a small wooden shack that backed onto the forest, door pointed in toward the market. There was no sign out the front, just the phases of the moon etched into the timber in an arc over the door, full moon in the centre.

Just in case they were wrong and this was some kind of ambush, Rodney split off and trekked into the woods in a wide circle until he was back behind the building, a stunner in hand as he watched John creep around the corner to the meeting point.

He had about two minutes to consider what a monumentally stupid idea this all was when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

…

John tensed as a figure stepped into the cramped space behind the ale house. They had a hood up over their head but based on the size, he could tell it was a woman. She moved with lithe grace toward him and that was when he noticed the jacket, long and mossy green with tan stripes breaking up the canvas, the panels woven together with strips of leather. He knew that jacket, despite how long it had been. The singular style of it jumped out in his mind.

His eyes tracked up to the red hair falling out of the cloth folds and John’s shocked face morphed into a grin. Rodney must have realised too because he clambered out of the woods before Sheppard even had a chance to give the all clear.

“Teyla,” McKay breathed with genuine excitement. “It’s so good to see you.”

She smiled, lowering her hood to reveal the relief in her face.

“And you as well, Rodney-“

“Doc,” he corrected on instinct. At her confused expression, he explained, “we don’t use our real names offworld. Too much chance it’ll get back to the wrong people.”

“Ah,” she nodded in understanding, a smirk twitching her lips. “A practice you decided to adopt _after_ your arrival on Kooroombah?”

John laughed uproariously at Rodney’s flushed stuttering.

“God, I missed you,” he said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

“I have missed you too, Major Sheppard.”

John flinched, his hand making an aborted movement towards where his dog tags used to be. After the incident with Greg, he’d taken them off and tucked them safely away in a box on the jumper. He still felt the phantom weight of them occasionally and being called ‘Major’, something he hadn’t heard in months, made his heart clench painfully. Teyla must have noticed, her face taking on a sad, apologetic smile.

John cleared his throat and replied, “I go by Maverick out here.”

Teyla blinked slowly, recognition sliding onto her face. Uh oh.

“Maverick…” she said, turning to Rodney who was fidgeting uncomfortably, “and Doc. The other teams have heard stories of two Wraith fighters with those names.”

“That’s not good,” Rodney groaned. “I told Dinae and Arcus not to tell so many people. We’re going to have to change our aliases. Maverick is way too obvious. They’ve probably already figured it out.”

“No, they have not,” Teyla said, a new appreciation in her gaze as she looked Rodney over. John tried not to let his possessiveness get the best of him, it was Teyla after all, there was no way she meant it like that, but he still shuffled a step closer to his scientist. She either didn’t notice or chose not to comment as she continued, “some have their suspicions; Doctor Zalenka believes most strongly. But there seems to be an agreement that the two of you could not have left your home galaxy. From what I understand, they searched with the Daedalus for some time before they decided that you had either died or simply would not be found until you were ready.”

“There better have been a nice service,” Rodney grumbled. John knocked their shoulders together, a wry smile around his mouth.

“I’m a dishonourably discharged murderer and you’re the mad scientist who broke me out of prison and stole a spaceship from Area 51,” he drawled. McKay sighed.

“I suppose I should be grateful they didn’t burn us in effigy and dance on the ashes,” he conceded.

Teyla was watching them with soft amusement.

“I am glad that the rumours were wrong.”

She stepped toward Rodney and placed her hands on his shoulders, bowing her head. It took Rodney a moment of confused flailing before he mirrored her position and returned the gesture. She repeated it with John and he felt something inside him unwind. It was something familiar that didn’t carry the pain of memories from his time in the air force. It was something purely Pegasus and it rang with _home._

Sheppard leaned back with a smile on his face and she returned it. He noted a sharp edge creep into it and next thing he knew, he was on his back in the mud, Rodney groaning next to him and pain radiating from his hips to his shoulders. He blinked dazedly as Teyla leant over them, blocking the rain briefly.

“Do not leave me behind again,” she said warningly. “I will be inside when you are ready to get up.” Then she turned and walked away, leaving them where they lay.

“God, I don’t think we’d survive if we _did,”_ Rodney moaned painfully.

As John shifted, feeling his knee twinge where she’d kicked it out, he couldn’t help but agree.

…

By the time they’d hauled themselves up and around to the front door, Teyla had claimed a table in the corner of the shack, three mugs of a fragrant yellow wine and a plate of bread, fruits and nuts spread out waiting for them.

Rodney had worried that they wouldn’t be let in with the state they were in, looking like drowned rats and covered in more mud than a freshly born orc. But the other patrons were in equal states of disarray, all leaving smears on the chairs and puddles on the floor. The barman didn’t seem to care one way or the other, too busy watching the room with narrowed eyes, hand resting on a pistol in clear view on the table.

The whole place gave off an old gangster movie vibe; wooden tables, people with hidden faces, more guns than an NRA rally and a distinctly spicy smoke hanging heavy in the air. Rodney blinked briefly. All the smoke was coming from a table in the corner where a group of men were puffing harshly on pipes and throwing dice to the table with a rattle. The whole space was lit softly with small crystals distributed around the room, their muted blue glow barely lifting the gloom enough to navigate around the seating.

He and John dropped into the chairs opposite Teyla, both reaching for the cups.

“There’s no fire,” Rodney pointed out with a frown.

“Fire is forbidden here,” Teyla answered. “The bright light and the smoke make the Rim too easy to spot. Instead, they use these.” She pointed to the crystal on their own table. “Elder Lights. The legends say that the Ancestors mined them from the moons of Shinari because of their beauty and the hidden power they possess. When the sun sets, even these will be covered to keep this place hidden.”

Rodney picked up the crystal, turning it slowly as his eyes raked over the surface. He didn’t know what the legends said, but he’d never known the Ancients to put a great deal of effort into beauty. Even Atlantis, one of the most striking cities he had ever seen, was built with practicality and purpose in every line. The spires acted as watchtowers, the glass was to cut power consumption on lighting and to maintain a healthy vitamin D balance in the workers, even the stunning writing lining the stairs that led to the ‘gate room had been revealed to contain a liability statement regarding travel through the Stargate.

A hidden power… The Elder Light shone with the same glow as the control crystals in all Ancient technology. He wondered if this was the material they had used to manufacture them…

Rodney was considering pocketing the crystal when he noticed the barman watching him, eyes narrowed. His gun was lifted slightly off the counter. Rodney gingerly set it back on the table.

“Speaking of being easy to find…” Sheppard started, raising an eyebrow at Teyla.

She smiled serenely and leant back in her chair, taking a sip of the wine.

“You were smart to go to a place where Atlantis has been forbidden from trading,” she allowed. “But the Athosians have traded at Kooroombah for many years. Jinto was there gathering seeds for the planting season when he heard that two men named Sheppard and McKay had come asking for information several times. The tavern owner, Arru was boasting about how he overcharged you.”

“That overfed, unwashed glorified gossip monger!” Rodney grumbled, angrily shoving bread into his mouth. “I _knew_ three bottles of vael juice was too much!”

“But why all the cloak and dagger?” John asked. “If you knew we’d be back to Kooroombah, why not just wait there?”

“Arru is not to be trusted,” she answered with a disapproving frown at the two of them. “You have already allowed him to learn too much. I did not want him to know your connection to the Athosians or Atlantis. It was safer for him to think that I was just passing along a message.”

Rodney glowered into his cup. He’d known Arru was only in it for himself, that much had been obvious from the start. He’d even suspected that one day, someone would offer him enough to justify telling them whatever they asked. But the thought that despite all they’d done to keep themselves out of Atlantis’ spotlight, he’d just been laughing it up and babbling their business to an entire tavern's worth of strangers made his blood run cold. The information he’d given them could easily be connected to several of Maverick and the Doc’s missions. Any halfwit would be able to track them back to that bar and if the Genii were pissed enough about the raids… Well, Rodney had been on the receiving end of Genii persuasion tactics.

His hand drifted to his forearm where he still held a scar from his encounter with Kolya. He didn’t doubt that even someone as tough looking as Arru would soon spill his guts. Whether that was literal or figurative would depend on how determined he was to live.

“How are things? In Atlantis,” he asked to distract himself, forcing his fingers to unclench from his sleeve and take up the tankard.

“Delicate,” she said slowly. “Doctor Weir is trying her best to maintain the peace but many people are not happy with what happened to the both of you. The scientists blame the military for driving you away, Doc, and the military blame Elizabeth for letting you be imprisoned, Maverick.” She sighed tiredly, her eyes falling shut. “Doctor Zalenka is trying his best to keep the city functioning but nobody knows Ancient technology like you do. There is a new military head, Colonel Lorne. He seems to be a good man but he is very young to hold such a position. Many of the marines are fighting his command.”

Rodney was momentarily floored by the idea that the science department missed him enough to _blame_ someone that he was gone, nevermind going against the marines. He thought of Miko, quiet flighty thing that she was, standing up against a mountain of a man like Sergeant Baker and the image just wouldn’t coalesce in his mind.

“Lorne,” he mused instead. “Evan Lorne? I’ve met him before at the SGC. Polite enough, but not exactly a by the book soldier either. I would have thought after Maverick they’d have gone for someone they could control a bit better.”

Teyla smiled, looking at John over the rim of her cup.

“Yes, he does remind me of you somewhat,” she said mirthfully.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” he frowned.

Rodney laughed airily and, wow, that wine was stronger than it looked. He patted John’s hand consolingly.

“Just that there’s a reason you’re called Maverick besides the whole pilot thing,” he teased.

Sheppard huffed but grabbed Rodney’s hand, holding it and rubbing his thumb over his palm gently. Rodney froze, feeling when John did the same as he realised what he was doing. They both glanced at Teyla. She blinked, obviously surprised, but then her smile widened into joy and youth the like of which Rodney hadn’t seen on anyone in the whole galaxy, never mind the fearsome daughter of Tagan.

“Next time I see Doctor Beckett, he will have to ‘pay up’,” she said smugly.

“What? Carson?” Rodney sputtered.

“He believed Jo- Maverick was not interested in other men and that you would one day come to steal his scotch because you had your heart broken,” she related, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

Sheppard doubled over laughing while Rodney tried to formulate a sufficiently outraged response to the knowledge that Carson had known he was head over heels for his team leader and had bet _against_ him. Some friend he was! The next time he saw that highland witch doctor he was going to tell him exactly where he could shove his scotch, bottle and all!

John tugged on his hand to reposition Rodney so he could sling an arm around his shoulders.

“Calm down, Doc,” he said, still struggling to contain his laughter. “It’s not like he was right. We should get a cut of the profits from that at least.”

“There isn’t enough coffee in the world,” Rodney grumbled, slumping theatrically against John’s shoulder.

Sheppard chuckled and squeezed Rodney’s shoulder affectionately before straightening up. They’d run out of coffee by the time they dropped out of hyperspace, despite his excessive packing and attempts to ration, and they had not yet managed to find a Pegasus equivalent. Rodney was still debating whether, if they did find one, it would be worth risking going through the month-long caffeine withdrawal again. The first time was bad enough, two borderline homicidal men trapped in close quarters with nothing but their mutual headaches keeping them from out and out murder. Maybe if they ended up in another ‘the world is about to end, help us, Rodney McKay, you’re our only hope’ moment, he could take one for the galaxy. He never thought he’d be actively considering passing up coffee. The fugitive life was changing him, he thought with a shudder.

“So, when are they expecting you back?” John asked, a touch of sadness in his voice.

Teyla stared at him as if he were a child who was not quite understanding what she was trying to teach him.

“They are not,” she said. “I told Doctor Weir that I would not join another team and instead would like to search for a new home for my people. Many of the Athosians, though they appreciate what your expedition has done, do not like to be so dependent on others. They wish to have their own home again. She believed it readily enough.”

“Then what are you going to do?” Rodney asked blankly. Her indulgent smile shifted to him.

“Return with you to your home, if you will have me.”

Rodney and John exchanged a grimace.

“Teyla, we don’t really have a home,” Sheppard said reluctantly. It was her turn to look surprised.

“Where have you been staying these past months?” she asked, a concerned frown forming on her face.

“The back of the jumper, for the most part,” Rodney answered. “Occasionally, people give us a bed for the night in exchange for some help around the village but we try not to stay in one place too long. Too much chance that someone will give us away to the Genii or the Wraith. We’ve been looking for an old Ancient facility to settle in, somewhere that hasn’t been picked clean by scavengers that we could maybe set up a little like Atlantis but…”

“So far, we’re oh for five,” John finished with a shrug.

Teyla thought for a moment, her finger tapping against her cup in quiet contemplation.

“I may know of a place,” she finally said, gaze far away. “I visited there once when I was a child and it was intact then. There weren’t any people living on the planet but I remember my mother saying that the address was a secret given to the Athosian leaders to protect for when the Ancestors returned.” Her eyes refocused on them and she gave a wan smile. “It is not quite the same, but you are their descendants. I would take you there.”

“Teyla,” John started. “Are you sure? We could keep looking. Your mother-“

“Would understand,” she interrupted gently. “She would say ‘a roof, a hearth and a wealth of years. May you always have these things’. I cannot promise you years, but as my friends, I will give you a roof and a hearth.”

Rodney was stunned. This place was the legacy of her people’s leaders, something her own mother had trusted her to guard and she was willing to give it to them. He didn’t know what he’d done to earn this kind of loyalty from her. All they’d done since coming to Pegasus was get her village destroyed and wake the most dangerous creatures in two galaxies from their millennia long slumber. Now they blow up a few hive ships and she forgives them, just like that. Enough to give them a home when they had nowhere else to go.

“Well, I guess we’re going house hunting,” John said with levity. “Think we can get something with a swimming pool and a view? Our budget is whatever a bag of retsa and Rodney’s cat will get us.”

“Cat?” Teyla asked curiously.

Rodney had somehow ended up at a table with the two most ridiculous, most amazing people in the galaxy. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

…

They decided to return to Hericia for the night and check out Teyla’s address in the morning, partly because they’d gotten used to sleeping in three hour lots to match the short day cycle of the planet while they’d been stuck waiting for jumper repairs, but mostly because John refused to do any more exploring until he’d gotten the mud out of his ears and a clean shirt on his back.

They stepped out of the gloomy jungle, through the ‘gate and into the warm early autumn afternoon. Heads were poking out of houses as people checked to see who was arriving, several waving when they recognised their faces.

John smiled and waved back, starting to count down mentally.

5…

4…

3…

2…

“Rodney! You’re back!” Naien came sprinting from the doors of the Hall where the children played during the day. He leapt over the fence and pounded up the dirt path to the Stargate, skidding to a stop just short of throwing himself into the scientist's arms. “Why are you all dirty?” he asked with a sweep of his inquisitive gaze. “Did you blow up another capsi- capasi-“

“Capacitor,” Rodney corrected, rolling his eyes, “and _no,_ I did not! We were in this jungle in the middle of a storm and _she,”_ he jerked his head in Teyla’s direction, “threw us into the mud.”

Naien turned his wide, wounded eyes on her.

“Why did you do that?” he asked, disappointment weighing heavily in his words.

Teyla was more flustered than John had ever seen her, colour high in her cheeks and shoulders stiff like she was actively trying not to curl up in shame. He took pity on her, reaching out to ruffle the kid’s dark, curly hair, redirecting his attention. The corners of John’s eyes crinkled with amusement as he saw Teyla breathe out in relief.

“We deserved it, kid. We did something stupid and she was teaching us a lesson,” he said, winking at Teyla over Naien’s head.

“What did you do?” he asked sceptically. Naien had, at some point, decided that Rodney was completely infallible and any implication that he could do something that was less than absolutely genius seemed to baffle him.

“We left our friend behind.”

Naien blinked slowly, assimilating this information, before nodding decisively.

“That is stupid,” he agreed. “Did you learn, though?”

“I sure hope so, buddy, because my clothes can’t take another lesson,” John laughed. “Speaking of, we could really use a bath.”

He hummed, critical gaze raking over their dishevelled appearances. Their pants were coated in grime from the knee down, their backs turned brown from their unfortunate landing and anything that wasn’t covered in dirt was soaked through with rain and sweat.

“It’s the girls’ turn to use the Water Temple right now but you should have time before dinner,” he told them.

John could practically feel Rodney roll his eyes skyward. He had begged them not to call the water processing plant a temple from the moment they’d started but it had stuck, the whole experience seeming like magic to the simple farming community. Once the facility was powered, they’d found two more hidden rooms, one containing a large communal bath filled with purified groundwater that was maintained at the perfect steamy temperature for a long soak. The other seemed to be the Ancient equivalent of a laundromat. There were vast tanks filled with a green gel that somehow separated dirt from the fibres after a short dip, leaving them clean and dry when they were removed. They discovered it only worked on natural materials when John had tried to wash his polyester socks from Earth and they had disintegrated as soon as they touched the tank.

“I’ll show Teyla where to go then. Can you tell Arcus that we’re back?”

“Okay!” he grinned. “Rodney, you have to see what I made with the parts you left behind!” He grabbed McKay’s hand and started towing him down the path back to the village. “It’s got a wheel on it and when I turn it, it lights up like _magic!”_

Rodney turned a desperate look back at John as he was led away but he just smiled and waved as he watched them go. Naien was normally pretty quiet, just content to absorb information wherever he could get it. But like Rodney, his excitement often ran away with him and where science was involved, he could ramble with the best of them.

“Does that child know that Rodney is normally…” Teyla started carefully with a vague gesture, staring at his retreating form. John nodded.

“I wouldn’t have believed it either but Naien seems to really like him. And Rodney is actually pretty good with him.”

Teyla arched a delicate brow at him and John shrugged helplessly.

Despite all his protest, Rodney watched after Naien as if he was his own, nurturing his interests and his mind, teaching him what he could and encouraging him much more gently than he’d ever seen on Atlantis. It was like Naien smoothed out his rough edges with his earnest enthusiasm and intelligent curiosity. John often had to stop himself from staring when they were in the throes of a discussion, tossing ideas back and forth with quick wit and sharp gestures. He just fit with Rodney so well and no matter what he said, John could see how happy spending time with the kid made him.

“He seems like a strong boy,” she said softly, mirroring the gentle smile on John’s face.

“He is, all things considered. His parents died of a fever a couple years ago. The town takes care of him now.” John sighed and tried to shake off the sudden melancholy. “Come on, I’ll show you to the baths.”

…

The next day, they headed for the gate. Some of the townspeople had come to see them off, Arcus and Dinae and their wives, Seraffa and Margreet. Naien was knelt next to Rodney’s side looking over the efforts of their creative binge during the week. It was almost like an RC car with a camera mounted on top though Rodney had ranted about debasing his genius by comparing it to such plebeian technology when he’d noted as much.

“It’s a mini-MALP,” he told them as he set it up in front of the ‘gate, testing the controls with his tablet. “Not as sophisticated as the real thing, but, uh, it should provide us with enough information to determine whether it’s safe to go through.”

“When you say ‘not as sophisticated’…” John asked, fingers tapping his P-90 anxiously. He still had a zat, figuring that even if it didn’t work on Wraith, there were still plenty of dangerous animals and people that he could avoid wasting his bullets on. He’d moved it to his left thigh and added a Wraith stunner to his right. Rodney had smirked and hooked his fingers into the crisscrossed belts, telling him he looked like a wild west gunslinger. The heat in his gaze had told John all he needed to know about what he thought of that.

“It can send audio and visual transmissions,” Naien answered, stumbling slightly over the new words. At Rodney’s approving nod, he practically beamed. Arcus and Dinae watched the interaction with satisfied smiles.

“We’ll be able to detect a breathable atmosphere as well,” McKay added.

“That’s it?” John frowned. He remembered the pages and pages of atmospheric composition reports, weather pattern projections, lifesign readings and terrain analysis they’d been made to go through before missions in Atlantis. Having nothing more than some videos and a positive oxygen reading to give a go ahead seemed incredibly risky.

“Well, sorry I didn’t want to cannibalise the jumper’s sensor array or destroy the only handheld scanner we have!” Rodney huffed. “We’ve been going through the ‘gate blind for weeks now, this should feel like an upgrade.”

“But then we at least had the jumper as a buffer,” John retorted. “If we can only see what’s in the area immediately around the ‘gate-“

“I know, I know, I’m working on a design for a UAV style drone with homing capabilities but even if I finish it, I don’t have the parts to build it. For now, this is the best I can do.”

Rodney sighed and John could finally see the frustration lining his face. Rodney was used to highly funded research labs where he could demand resources as he saw fit and people would jump to deliver. At the moment, he was reduced to recycling and repurposing and stretching his supplies for as long as possible. They hadn’t been anywhere with electric lighting besides a Genii lab in months. Rodney was completely out of his element in these little rural towns.

Not for the first time, John wished he could give Rodney everything he wanted, everything he’d cast aside to have this life with him. He reached out and squeezed his hand in apology. Rodney nodded and squeezed back, a small quirk at his mouth.

“It is better than my people have ever known, Rodney,” Teyla said encouragingly. “Any information we can gain is an advantage.”

“Yes, well,” Rodney said uncomfortably, turning his attention back to his tablet. “It’s never been tested before but there’s no time like the present so, shall we?” He gestured to the DHD and Teyla stepped up to begin dialling.

Naien was bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. John rolled his eyes fondly and grabbed the back of the boy’s collar, towing him out of the ‘gate’s splash zone. He moved to peer over Rodney’s shoulder at the camera feed displaying the base of the ‘gate.

The wormhole engaged and Rodney gently piloted the mini-MALP through. Teyla joined them in watching the tablet as it emerged on the other side. It was in the middle of a dense forest, like many other planets, but where normally they might see a dirt path or some cobblestones leading up to the ‘gate, instead there was a long metal platform. It was covered with leaves and forest debris, branches overhanging the road but it was distinctly Ancient in design, glass panels lining the raised lip on either side that looked like lighting recesses as it ventured further into the wilderness.

“It looks just as I remember,” Teyla said wistfully.

“Can you see where the path goes?” John asked.

“Yeah, yeah, just-“ Rodney flapped impatiently, urging the little car forward.

For several moments, there was more of the same. Then it drove through a curtain of vines and it was just _there._

John gave a low whistle. Teyla gasped in recognition. Rodney gave an astounded chuckle. Naien wriggled up into the circle of McKay’s arms so he could see the screen as well.

“Wow, it’s even prettier than the Water Temple,” he breathed.

“Yeah, it’s something,” Rodney answered, too distracted to be offended about the whole ‘temple’ thing.

On the screen, the path led to the top edge of a large outdoor amphitheatre, metallic steps sloping down to a flat overgrown grassy yard at the base of a sheer cliff face. The rock was covered with Ancient metal and glass, windows looking deeper into the facility. The door sat large and proud in the centre of the wall facing the yard, bordered by two vine covered spires that rose like sentinels over the top of the cliff edge and into the sky. It was hard to tell from the grainy picture, but John thought he could see more spires further back over the rocky outcrop. He wondered how far into the mountain the complex ran.

“Do you know what’s inside?” he asked Teyla, eyes never leaving the impressive façade of the structure.

“No, we never went in. My mother said it would not open for us,” she answered.

“It must be biolocked to the ATA gene,” Rodney theorised. “Oh, that’s fantastic! If we can access the computers and create a database of accepted genetic profiles then-“

“Only the people we want can come in,” John finished, a grin stretching over his face. “That’ll give us a pretty strong defence.”

“Yeah, forget the Genii assault, they’d never make it past the door!” Rodney laughed manically.

“Tell me it still has breathable atmosphere.”

Rodney tapped his tablet quickly and turned back to Sheppard, confirmation in his unabating grin. John surged forward to kiss him happily. It was awkward and messy with their twin smiles and Naien whining disgustedly between them but he was too happy to care. This was exactly what they’d been looking for, a strong defensible position on an unknown world and, hopefully, some Ancient tech that they could use.

“Looks like we have a go, guys,” he grinned. Teyla returned the smile and began gathering her bag.

“How long will you be gone?” Naien asked and John stopped to look at the boy. He was shifting nervously, his fingers clinging to Rodney’s sleeve and for the first time since he’d known him, he actually looked scared of Rodney’s answer.

“Uh, I’m not sure,” McKay blinked. “A couple of days, maybe a week. We’ll need to come back for the jumper once we find the materials to repair it. Why?”

“Oh,” Naien said sadly, eyes turning to the ground as he stepped away.

John frowned at the uncharacteristic show of disappointment. They had gone out for days at a time before and Naien had said he would miss them but he had never looked quite so upset.

Dinae and Margreet, the two who had been housing him for the last few months stepped up then, Dinae clapping a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“It is the Eligens the day after tomorrow,” he explained.

“Eligens? What is that?” Rodney asked, confused.

“The marking of his thirteenth cycle,” Margreet answered with an indulgent smile on her lined face, her kind eyes glittering with amusement. “A very important day for the young ones of our village.”

“Your birthday?” Rodney stared at Naien, absolutely baffled. “And you want me to be there?”

John wondered if Rodney had ever been invited to a birthday party before. His gobsmacked expression said no and John had to curl his hands into fists to control the anger welling inside him. He really wished he could go back to Earth if only to hunt down all the people that had made Rodney feel so small and make them suffer.

“You have to come,” Naien pleaded. “I need you to be there.”

Sheppard didn’t give Rodney a chance to find an excuse. He slipped an arm around his shoulders and ruffled the kid’s hair.

“Don’t worry, buddy, I’ll make sure he shows up,” he grinned.

Rodney sputtered as Naien beamed, gave them both a quick hug and bolted back down to the village. Dinae watched him stop at the last minute and call a farewell to Teyla before he disappeared among the buildings. He turned back to them with a calculating eye.

“Do not let him down,” he warned lowly, taking Margreet’s hand and leading her away. She waved goodbye, gesturing for Arcus and Seraffa who had silently observed the exchange to join them and then they were alone at the base of the ‘gate, the wormhole rippling softly in the sudden silence.

“Why the hell did you agree to that?” Rodney fumed. “We’re going to have a new facility to explore and repairs to make and who knows what dire emergencies could crop up between now and then! You can’t just promise-!”

“It’s one day, Rodney,” John drawled exasperatedly. “I’m sure you can spare fourteen hours to eat food and hang out with the only kid in the universe who seems to actually like you.”

“This is important to Naien,” Teyla agreed. “I’m sure the facility will be able to wait for your attentions while you relax with your young friend.”

Rodney’s jaw worked for a few moments. Finally, he huffed and snatched his bag from the ground and marched toward the ‘gate.

“They better have those setski cakes,” he grumbled.

John and Teyla shared victorious smiles and headed after him.

…

Rodney was still scowling as they made their way along the path to the complex they hoped would be their new home, the lights dutifully coming to life and fading away as Sheppard strolled past at the head of their group.

Fine, he would admit it, he liked Naien. The kid was smart and interested in everything and he kind of reminded him of himself at that age. He wanted to give him all the support and encouragement Rodney himself had never gotten. But he hadn’t meant for the kid to start leaning on him the way he was. Rodney was bad with people, really bad, and it was only a matter of time before he did or said something without thinking that would hurt Naien so badly he couldn’t stand to be around him anymore. He’d been concentrating so hard on not driving John away since they started this relationship, he didn’t know if he could do it for two people at a time.

He didn’t want to lose Naien but the thought of letting John down had him almost choking in fear. But if he hurt the kid, he’d hurt John. It was an impossible situation. He felt like tearing his hair out. How was he supposed to protect Naien and not disappoint John?

He noticed Teyla watching him and he tried to school his expression. She touched his shoulder quickly and moved up next to John. Crap, now he was going to have to _talk_ about it.

They broke into the clearing above the entrance and Rodney pulled out his scanner.

“There’s definitely still power,” he noted, flicking through the readings quickly. “I can’t tell what kind though. Definitely not a ZedPM, wrong energy signature. A precursor technology maybe? It’s pretty strong, that’s for sure.”

“Any lifesigns?” John asked.

“None that I can detect.”

“I do not sense any Wraith either,” Teyla said from where she was scooping up the mini-MALP, storing it in her pack.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.” Sheppard hefted his weapon and started down the stairs. Just like the ones in Atlantis, they lit up with a gentle glow, highlighting carvings of Ancient text. They rippled out with every step John took, bright and warm near his feet and rolling out to the barest glow at the edge of the amphitheatre, fading after a few seconds.

The door would be imposing enough, twice their height and wider than Rodney’s entire arm span, but the enormous spires that rose up along the walls were connected in the middle by an exterior walkway and from its bottom hung long, thin spikes of metal that looked as if they could fall at any moment. It was almost like staring straight up into a spike trap.

“You don’t suppose that’s just a design feature, do you?” Rodney asked tightly, eyes tracing what looked suspiciously like runners along the inside edge of the spires.

“I really hope we don’t have to find out,” John said. “You two should get out from under it just in case.”

Rodney and Teyla nodded, stepping out from under the platform as John approached the door controls. Rodney bit his lip, watching with tense shoulders as Sheppard took a steadying breath. He waved his hand over the panel.

The door swished open easily, a light flickering on in the antechamber beyond.

He watched John creep forward, gun up and eyes scanning the space. Rodney couldn’t see much from where he was, but he could hear the distinctive hum of Ancient technology coming to life, could feel the slight tickle at the back of his mind that meant the complex was still functioning. His fingers were drumming restlessly against the stunner at his thigh. Teyla was checking her P-90’s ammo. John disappeared around the doorframe and Rodney’s breath caught, fingers frozen. He stared and waited. His teeth sank into his bottom lip. His breath shallowed.

“Clear!” John called.

Rodney sagged and shook himself. He was being ridiculous. This address had been lost thousands of years ago and the door was biometrically sealed, who was going to be inside?

He and Teyla walked through the entrance and froze at the grandeur before them. They were in a massive entry hall, the vaulted, steel-beamed ceilings some twenty or thirty feet high. To either side was a raised dais holding a series of Ancient consoles arranged in the round, screens hanging from the roof in staggered elevations and distances from the central computers like glowing drops from an elaborate chandelier. The walls were broken up occasionally by recesses containing long dead plants bracketed by tubes of bubbling water that were backlit in warm oranges and golds. There were long silver curtains dotted along the edges of the room and draped artfully along the curve of the ceiling to where they gathered in a central point and fell around the main light fixture. Directly under the enormous circular lamp was a metal and glass mosaic that decorated the floor creating a lush geometric tree, its roots spreading throughout the room to form pathways around the space. Opposite the main door was a large archway leading further into the facility and above that, a wide balcony overlooked everything. From their positions on the ground level they could see the headrest of an Ancient control chair lying dim and dormant in its centre.

Rodney was speechless. It was like no other Ancient structure he had ever seen. Everything he’d thought about their completely utilitarian design flew right out the window when faced with such a singularly beautiful space, even coated in dust as it was. What the hell _was_ it?

He was halfway up the stairs to the left dais before he knew what he was doing.

“Rodney!” John warned. “Be careful! We don’t know what other traps are around.”

“I have the gene, Sheppard. I’ll be fine,” he called, already pulling out his tablet. 

“I will go and check the surrounding rooms,” Teyla said and Rodney heard her footsteps echo through the cavernous room as she headed to the archway.

He was busy attaching cables to the control crystals, eyes fixed on his screen. What was this place? Was there anything they could use? Could this be the safe haven they’ve been looking for? A million and one questions flooded through his mind as he accessed the central database, scrolling until he found the logs.

“Oh,” he blinked. He read a few more lines. “Oh…” His shoulders slumped dejectedly.

“What is it?” John asked right next to his ear. Rodney jumped, not having noticed him join him.

“It’s not a city or an outpost or anything even remotely interesting,” he moaned.

“Well, what then?” he frowned, eyes roaming over the scrolling Ancient script on the screens surrounding them.

“It’s a monastery. Or something like one, anyway,” McKay explained as he glanced over the information. “This place, Nemus was built by a rogue group of Ancients called the Azyma who believed that ascension shouldn’t be achieved using technology. They came here to meditate and ‘unburden their spirits’.” He rolled his eyes disparagingly. “I can’t think of anything more asinine than the concept of a spirit corrupted by technology.”

“I’m surprised you believe in the concept of a spirit at all,” he said.

“Well, we already know ascension is possible,” Rodney shrugged. “So there is a level of truth to it but it’s not magic, it’s electromagnetic energy that’s converted into-”

“Just-” John cut him off quickly. “Is there anything we can use or not?”

“No, a fully functioning Ancient facility has absolutely zero value,” he snarked. “Look, it’s a secure building with lighting, plumbing and heating. Even if there isn’t anything else, at least it’s a safe place to stay for now.”

John nodded and tapped the butt of his P-90 lightly.

“See if there’s anything else you can get from the database, maybe the locations of some other outposts we can search. And there’s got to be something you can rip apart to get the jumper parts-”

“John,” Teyla’s voice crackled from their radios. “I have found something you will wish to see.”

Rodney unhooked his tablet from the console and they followed the path through the main archway. The same design style continued along the hall, water tubing framing every door they passed and tapestries bearing the same tree symbol from the floor in the front room were spread throughout. But instead of the roots fanning out, they wrapped around to form a dome over the branches, creating an elegant emblem. The mosaic pattern flowed along the ground, the glass pieces lighting up ahead of them, bending around corners to guide them deeper into the facility. Rodney figured John must be asking for directions and felt a familiar pang of bitterness that Ancient technology just _worked_ for Sheppard like it never had for him. He shoved the feeling down and chose instead to focus on scrubbing through the floor plans for the complex as they went.

Despite his initial scepticism, he did locate a number of what looked like labs further in. He guessed even if the Azyma didn’t want to research ascension, an Ancient was still an Ancient. A new flare of hope caught in his chest. He just had to keep his fingers crossed that they weren’t studying the lifecycle of the common moth or something else equally ridiculous. He hated the soft sciences with a passion.

There were living quarters in the west wing and possibly a large mess. If he had to guess, he’d say that little rectangle was an infirmary or maybe a community centre, it was hard to tell. They were walking toward another large hall in the dead centre of the map, even bigger than the one they’d entered through. He frowned, wondering at its purpose. There was only one door and what looked like a large stage to one end. An assembly hall of some kind?

“Rodney,” John said. He hummed distractedly in reply. “You know how you said the Azyma were trying to ascend? I think they did.”

He glanced up to see Sheppard and Teyla standing on either side of an open door. The hall was before them. Layers of sheer fabric hung from the ceiling and drifted lazily in the breeze from the ventilation shafts. At the far end of the room was a wooden platform bearing an enormous green tree. Its branches were almost brushing the roof of the cavern, a recessed light shining down around it in a perfect circle illuminating drops of moisture glittering in the leaves. Spread over the padded floor in front of them were hundreds of sets of clothing, laying perfectly in place as if their owners had simply evaporated.

“Isn’t that something,” he breathed. “I wonder how long it took them, in the end…”

“Does the database say anything about how long they were separated from the other Ancients?” John asked.

“I don’t know. Let me just…” 

He looked back down at his screen and was just about to click back to the log when a familiar shape caught his eye. He stared at the map for a moment more, not believing their luck.

“Doctor McKay?” Teyla asked.

Rodney looked at both of them, a smile splitting across his face.

“I think we struck gold,” he answered. Without waiting for a response, he spun on his heel and took off down the corridor.

“McKay!” Sheppard called but Rodney didn’t stop. He could hear them following him but he was too excited. If he was right, if this was what he thought it was, then their lives just got a whole lot easier.

He skidded around the final corner and came to a stop in front of a door. He slid his hand over the control panel and bounced into the room, John and Teyla right on his heels. He turned to watch them, saw them both freeze, saw John’s smile widen. They were in a big multitiered room, platforms jutting out from walkways around the edges and though most were empty, three held the familiar cylindrical shape of a puddle jumper.

“Looks like we’re in business,” Sheppard grinned and Rodney chuckled at the covetous gleam in his eyes.

Things were starting to look up.

…

By the next afternoon, John was rolling his eyes as he herded Rodney back down the path to the ‘gate. The man was clutching at his tablet and the Ancient parts he’d harvested from one of the refrigeration units in the commissary, his bag dangling from one elbow. Teyla walked along behind them, gathering up the scraps of filament and tubing that he dropped as he struggled to turn back toward Nemus.

“I just need ten more minutes!” he whined, tugging against the hand John had wrapped around his bicep. “I was this close to finishing the sensor calibration!”

“And it will still be there when we get back,” John told him. “We have to get to Dinae’s place.”

“What for?” he asked, baffled.

“It is Naien’s Eligens today,” Teyla reminded him as she handed him the bundle of wire.

“No,” Rodney blinked. “They said two days. It’s tomorrow.”

“Two _Herician_ days. Twenty-eight hours, Rodney. That’s today,” John said.

Rodney groaned, finally giving in and threading his arms properly through the straps on his pack. John smiled, letting him go so he could walk more freely. He bumped their shoulders together, grazing his pinkie over the back of Rodney’s hand.

“It’s a party, buddy. Food, booze and an actual bed tonight,” he coaxed.

McKay brightened considerably at the suggestion. Their exploration of the living quarters had revealed that the Azyma were as monastic as the database had suggested. Each of the small rooms contained a rotten timber table and chair, an en suite bathroom, a decaying floor mat to sleep on and nothing else. Considering some of the rooms were clearly sized to accommodate whole families, it was almost impressive how little these people had apparently needed to survive.

They’d only managed to explore a fraction of the facility, it being substantially bigger than they had originally thought. There were a further three levels down into the ground and it spread for several miles into the side of the mountain. So far, they hadn’t encountered anything dangerous, that they knew of at least. Rodney had spent the day attempting to restore the exterior sensor array so they could discover what else was on the planet, whether it was actually safe enough to set up a permanent camp. John had also seen some rather large footprints in the scrub around the Stargate that he was choosing not to bring to Rodney’s attention just yet. If they were lucky, it was something they could hunt. Not that he didn’t like a nice space turkey sandwich but he was seriously craving some red meat.

Teyla dialled up the ‘gate as Rodney checked his pockets for the sixth time since they started walking. John smiled fondly and added another one to the list of his strange habits like how he always hung his shirts to dry inside out or couldn’t stop himself from undoing and redoing the velcro on his thigh holster at least twice to make doubly sure that it was attached properly.

They stepped through the event horizon and had barely made it two steps when they were almost knocked off their feet by an energetic newly-thirteen year old.

“You came!” Naien grinned from where he was wrapped around Rodney’s waist. McKay’s hands were held awkwardly in the air like he wasn’t sure what to do. John laughed and ruffled the unruly dark hair.

“Course we did, kid. We promised, right?” he answered. 

“Happy birthday, Naien,” Teyla smiled. “May you have many more.”

He stepped away from Rodney to bow deeply to her, one arm held across his middle, the thumb of his fist pressed into his chest.

“I thank the Ancestors for your blessing,” he replied formally. When he straightened back up, a bewildered smirk was pulling at his lips. “Dinae says now that I’m a man, I should say that when someone wishes me well.”

John was trying desperately not to laugh as he replied, “Well, you wouldn’t want to be impolite.”

“Yes, yes, speaking of your guardian, where is he? I was promised food and everyone knows he’s the best cook in the village,” Rodney demanded.

“Guardian?” Naien blinked. “I don’t have a guardian anymore.”

“What do you mean? You’re thirteen,” he accused.

“Yes. It is the Eligens today. I am grown.”

John glanced at Teyla and even she looked slightly put out at the idea of someone as young as Naien being considered grown. So it wasn’t a Pegasus thing, it was a Herician thing.

“Naien, what exactly is the Eligens?” he asked cautiously. The giddy nervous smile was back, the child bouncing on his toes.

“You will see when the ceremony starts at sundown,” he answered. “Come, come, there is food and drink in the village. We have a few hours.” He started bounding back down the path, checking over his shoulder to make sure they were following.

“John, I do not like this,” Teyla whispered, her eyes tracking the lively celebrations taking place in the square.

“Yeah, ceremonies have never really worked in our favour,” he agreed, seeing Naien merge into a group of other children who greeted him with back slaps and laughter.

“Eligens,” Rodney was muttering. “Eligens, I know that word. It sounds Ancient or…” He huffed agitatedly. “It’s right there, I know it. I just can’t…”

“Okay, let’s just blend in, see what information you can find. Rodney,” he called, getting the scientist’s attention, “you keep an eye on Naien. Not that I don’t trust Arcus and Dinae but the last time there was a ritual involving children-”

“It was a suicide pact,” he finished, face hardening slightly. “I got it.”

They nodded at each other and went down into the town to greet Arcus and Dinae who were seated on cushions by the fire with several other men and women. They were all wearing golden circlets on their heads, a simple inch wide band with raised edges and a line of rivets running around its circumference, each with a different symbol engraved in the centre front. 

“Ah, friends! Welcome!” Arcus greeted, rising to meet them. The others rose with him. John noted that they were all looking at Rodney with no small amount of curiosity and anticipation. “We are pleased that you could join us.”

“Well, we were pleased to be invited,” he replied, eyes tracking over the faces warily as he stepped forward in front of the others. From this close he could see that Arcus’ headband had a carving of a seven-pointed star surrounded by a laurel wreath with a sun on either side, the symbol for Hericia. 

“You honour us,” he said, sweeping into the same bow as Naien had, the others ghosting the movement. He straightened and gestured to the people behind him. “May I introduce the Magisters. We have not had occasion to gather since you came to our village. These are the most educated of our people, each a master in their own craft.”

Ah, John thought, that explained the symbols. As he glanced around the group, he could see some that were easy enough to guess. A hammer and chisel for the mason, a quill and inkwell for the scribe, three intricate vases for the potter. Dinae, who was standing at his brother’s shoulder, bore a shield with two crossed swords, identifying him as Hericia’s defender.

“We are honoured to meet such wise men and women,” Teyla said, flawlessly mimicking their bow. He noted that they did not bow to her like they had him, each nodding agreeably and some smiling but not with the same level of respect he’d been shown. His eyes narrowed at the slight.

“Doctor McKay, we insist that you sit with us,” Arcus smiled. “Your knowledge of the Ancestors’ machines has saved our people from starvation and more than earned you a place with the Magisters.”

“What? I, uh, no, I couldn’t possibly,” he sputtered. 

For all that Rodney loved to brag, John had realised that Rodney didn’t actually know what to do with a genuine compliment. He was used to finding his gratification from within, self-affirmation a way of life for him. While he was good at playing it off in front of strangers, they’d come to know these people fairly well in the weeks they’d been coming to the village and John knew their appreciation meant a great deal to Rodney. Any opportunity to strengthen his self-worth, John was happy to push him toward. And if they trusted him enough to sit with their council, well, maybe they would tell him what this whole ‘Eligens’ ritual was about.

“Go on, McKay,” he insisted, nudging him forward. “Maybe they can tell you something you don’t know.”

To his credit, Rodney seemed to catch on fairly quickly. He blinked at Sheppard then nodded.

“Okay, yes, I would be… honoured,” he stumbled.

“Wonderful!” Arcus boomed, his voice carrying around the square. 

Sudden quiet descended on the celebrations, eyes turning to stare at them. John tensed, hand going to his sidearm. He felt Teyla crowd up on Rodney’s other side. Dinae reached into a fold of his jacket and produced another gold circlet. Arcus took it and held it out before them. On its face was a carving of the Stargate flanked by the two towers from either end of the Water Temple.

“Doctor Rodney McKay, you are named: Magister Machina!” he declared. Cheering erupted around the square and the other Magisters swept down into bows, even deeper than they had for John, as Arcus held the headband out.

“Wait, what? I, no, I thought I was sitting with you,” Rodney denied, hands held up in defence and colour rising into his cheeks.

John couldn’t blame him. He really hadn’t seen this one coming.

“Yes,” Dinae agreed. “You will sit with us, as Magister of Machines. You have proven your knowledge to the people of Hericia. None other can be master of this craft.”

“But I’m not one of your people!” he tried to reason. 

“You have shared our homes and broken bread with us. You have risked your life for that of our people in the Wraith attack that claimed so many,” Seraffa answered as she stepped up to her husband’s side. Her headband bore a spinning wheel. “We claimed you as our own long ago.”

“Rodney,” Teyla broke in quietly. “This is one of the highest positions to their people. It is a show of great respect to be granted it.”

“But we won’t be staying,” he answered frantically.

“That is not a problem,” Arcus said smoothly. “Many of the Magisters travel and only return once or twice a cycle for the Eligens and harvest festivals.”

John watched Rodney chew his lip, his old insecurities flaring up again.

“Hey,” he said softly, squeezing his shoulder. “Rodney McKay, PhD, PhD. You earned this.”

Rodney stared into his eyes for a few moments, searching his gaze for something. He must have found it because he nodded and turned back to Arcus. He squared his shoulders and bowed, much less gracefully than Teyla had done. The cheers redoubled as the old Herician slipped the circlet onto Rodney’s head. John grinned proudly, slinging an arm around Rodney’s shoulders.

“How’s it feel to be the master of machines, McKay?” he teased.

“Like I’m back where I belong, being recognised as the smartest person on the planet,” he answered smugly but beneath that, there was a genuine bashfulness at being openly celebrated for his achievement. John felt a warm rush of affection for the man pressed to his side.

“Congratulations, Rodney,” Teyla smiled, squeezing his arm softly.

“Come, we will eat and then the ceremony will begin,” Arcus said warmly, gesturing Rodney to the cushion between him and Dinae. “Please, the rest of you enjoy the festivities.”

John met Rodney’s eyes and they nodded, both turning to see what information they could find. Rodney settled uncomfortably on the cushion and struck up a conversation with Margreet, gesturing wildly to the party and his headband. John swept his gaze over the assembled townsfolk as he and Teyla walked slowly through them. There was something different, something that was tugging at his mind…

“Are there more kids here than before?” he asked quietly, a frown slowly forming as he noted the large clusters of youths spread through the square. They were all talking, several of them showing off leather bracelets with beads, all different amounts and mixes of wood, silver and gold.

“Yes,” she said slowly. “There were only perhaps a few dozen last time, and not many as old as these.”

Now that she’d pointed it out, John realised that for all the time they’d been staying with the Hericians, he’d only seen a handful of kids older than Naien himself. Tonight, they were everywhere, teenagers talking animatedly to the younger children who were hanging on their every word. Looking closer, he could see that the older the child, the more beads were on their bracelets and the richer the materials. There was a young man, nineteen or twenty with a glittering crystal on his bracelet being thumped heartily on the back and hugged by several people.

His eyes landed on Naien where he was sitting with a group of younger kids, none of them with bracelets at all. He was grinning and pointing to Rodney with excitement. The others were rolling their eyes, looking sceptical but unsurprised.

“Kind of makes me wonder where they’ve been all this time,” he mused.

For the next hour they wandered around the party, chatting and eating. John tried to ask more questions about the Eligens but everyone merely shook their heads and told him it was a matter for the Magisters. John wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that, especially now that _Rodney_ was now one of the Magisters. Hopefully, that meant he’d had more luck getting information than they had.

“The time has come!” Arcus called, his voice carrying easily through the din and gathering the town's attention. John noticed for the first time that the sun had set over the fields leaving them lit only by the light of the bonfire and the candles spread around them. “Come, Magisters and conjugats. The Eligens begins!”

Applause went up through the square as the Magisters rose and headed to the town hall, Rodney scrambling to follow. Several other people in the crowd broke off and moved to join them while Naien and two other children around his age formed an ordered line next to the steps into the building. 

John felt a pit of anxiety open in his stomach as Rodney went through the doors out of his view. He trusted the Hericians, he did. They’d never been anything but kind to them but an unknown ceremony surrounded by people they had never seen in town before with children involved? He didn’t know what to think and having McKay away from him was triggering all kinds of warnings.

“Sheppard,” Dinae called, gesturing him over. “You are Magister McKay’s conjugat. You are permitted to attend the Eligens.”

“Okay, good,” he breathed in relief. “Wait, what’s a conjugat?”

“His promised. Unless you have married since we saw you a few days ago,” he smirked.

John choked and shook his head violently. God, that was way too soon. They’d only been together a few months and they’d been great. But John had rushed into a marriage once before, using vows as a band aid for a failing relationship and he didn’t want to do it again. He cared about Rodney too much to ruin what they had that way.

Looking back into the square, he caught Teyla’s eye and signalled for her to join him. 

“I’m afraid Miss Emmagen is an honoured guest but the Eligens is a private ceremony. She will have to wait with the town,” Dinae informed them. “It will not take long. She is welcome to continue enjoying the feast.”

“Alright,” John agreed reluctantly. He didn’t like the idea of leaving her out here on her own, but despite all their talks about maintaining professionalism offworld, he liked the idea of Rodney being out of his sight even less.

“I will be fine, John,” she assured. “I have my radio.”

He nodded and left with Dinae, passing Naien where he was nervously fidgeting from his position third and last in line. He reached out and clasped the kid’s shoulder, shooting him a reassuring smile as they entered the hall. He had no idea what the Eligens involved but he did know that he and Rodney would grab him and run if they had to.

Inside, John took in the long log room with awe. It was two stories tall with a loft space used for storing tables, chairs and boxes of miscellaneous bric a brac taking up the back quarter, balcony walkways running along the sides to two staircases on either side of the main door. Tall arched windows lined the upper level and wall hangings and paintings dotted the lower. There was an enormous candle chandelier hanging in the middle of the room casting a soft glow over the space that was strengthened here and there with standing candelabras. In the middle of the space, the Magisters knelt in a semi-circle on cushions, each of them with a flat metal dish in front of them and three drawstring pouches arranged at their sides. Rodney was shifting around next to Arcus, trying to get comfortable in the position. Behind them the ‘conjugats’ stood at the Magisters’ left shoulder.

At Dinae’s nod, he walked in and took his position behind Rodney, watching the last Magister take his seat on McKay’s other side.

“Any idea what’s happening?” he asked lowly.

“Not sure. They just kept smiling and saying I would see,” Rodney scowled. He hated surprises and so did John.

“And you will, Magister,” Arcus said serenely. “We will now begin.”

He clapped sharply and the Magisters moved in sync. They grabbed their trays and rapped them once, twice, three times on the floor, the metallic clang reverberating loudly through the space. A moment later, the door opened and a boy walked in, coming to a stop before the ring of master craftsmen. He was big for his age, tall and with the kind of thick limbs that would no doubt become bulky muscle in his teenage years.

“Your name?” Arcus asked, warmth gone from his face. He was all business right now. John felt his spine straightening on instinct.

“Vaelem, son of Kor,” the boy said, voice sure and steady, confidence in his gaze.

“You have consulted the Ancestors and determined your path?” Dinae spoke, the same quiet authority radiating from his being.

“I have.”

The Magisters banged their trays once, calling “Choose!” as they did. Without a moment's hesitation, Vaelem walked forward and dropped a small wooden plaque into the dish in front of Dinae. Peering over the man’s shoulder, John could see it was around the size of a matchbox but thin and it had Vaelem’s name etched into it, a small hole at one end. He watched curiously as Dinae surveyed the boy, raking across his heavy frame with intense scrutiny.

“You often watch me practice in the fields,” he said. Vaelem nodded. “Next time you will do more than watch.” 

He took the plaque from the dish and pulled one of the pouches forward, rattling softly as it went. He threaded the nameplate easily onto the drawstring and secured it with a knot. Then he reached inside and took out a leather bracelet like the older children had been wearing and tossed it to Vaelem, setting the bag in front of him separate from the others. The kid was grinning ear to ear as he slipped it on. He bowed to Dinae and the Magisters banged their trays loudly and erratically, not stopping until the kid was out the door.

“What just happened?” Rodney asked from where he’d been watching it all silently, not having reached for his dish once.

“This is the Eligens,” Arcus explained proudly over the cheering drifting in from outside. “The Choosing Day.”

“Choosing what?” John asked.

“Enough talking,” a man he’d never seen before scolded. “There are only three of age this year and the night grows cold. I will not have you keep me from the fire longer than necessary.”

There were murmurs of agreement through the crowd and they reached for their dishes. Rodney scrambled to follow, banging his dish along with the others as the next child came in. It was a young girl, small and shy and fragile looking. She didn’t meet any of their eyes as she stood before them and nearly jumped out of her skin when they bellowed “choose!”. She glanced slowly around the circle before shuffling closer and deposited her plaque in front of an older woman at the far end, her dark skin contrasting beautifully with the gold on her forehead and the thick metal chest plate she wore. John was too far away to see the symbol. She looked the girl over just as Dinae had done, the lines in her weathered face deepening.

“It is not easy,” she warned.

“I did not expect so,” the girl answered evenly, her shoulders squaring.

The woman nodded approvingly, casting a final glance over her before scooping up her tag and tossing her a bracelet.

“We will leave at first light,” she said. “Do not celebrate too long.”

“Thank you, Magister,” the girl grinned, bowing and rushing from the room to the clattering of plates and a roar of applause.

“Leave?” Rodney wondered but this time, the Magisters barely waited for the door to close before giving three sharp raps, McKay a beat behind.

“It’s Naien’s turn,” John whispered.

“What?” Rodney hissed as the door opened. 

Naien walked in slowly, eyes sweeping nervously across their assembled group. When he saw Rodney and John, he smiled and relaxed a small bit. He stood before them with his hands clasped behind his back, feet apart like he’d seen Sheppard do occasionally. He grinned softly at the kid, affection sweeping through him.

“Your name?” Arcus began.

“Naien, son of Huin,” he responded dutifully.

“Your path has been set for some time, but I must ask,” Dinae grinned, “have you consulted the Ancestors and made a decision?”

His eyes locked on Rodney as he answered, “I have.”

“Choose!” they chorused. 

Naien walked straight forward and dropped his plaque into McKay’s dish. John felt his shoulders tighten as silence descended. He had a feeling he knew what was going on, and he also knew Rodney would not be okay with it. The scientist looked at the kid and then glanced around the room, up to John and finally over to Arcus.

“What is this?” he asked.

“The Choosing,” Arcus answered, picking up right where he left off, “is the day when the children of Hericia choose their path in life and the Magister who will guide them.”

“Vaelem chose to join me in protecting our people,” Dinae put in helpfully. “Mari chose to learn the ways of the forge.”

“So, it’s like an apprenticeship?” Rodney said. “That’s fine, we’re already kind of doing that anyway.” He reached for the tag. Seraffa’s voice stayed him.

“An Eligens is not something to be undertaken lightly,” she admonished. “Naien will become your responsibility. That includes not just his learning but his housing, his food, his clothing, whatever else he may need. In return, he will go where you go and help you with whatever you may need.”

“What?” Rodney balked, snatching his hand back. “You want me to _adopt_ him?”

“In a sense, yes,” Arcus nodded. “Naien has chosen you and you must accept. It is his right.”

“I can’t! I’m no good with children, I have a horrible temper, I can barely take care of _myself!_ I can’t look after a kid!”

“The Magisters disagree,” the man to Dinae’s side said warmly, a kind smile on his sun-spotted face. “We have watched you since you first came here. You have taught Naien a great deal. No one in our village has been able to nurture his talent as you have. You are the only one who can guide him down the path we believe he is destined for.”

As Rodney spluttered, John looked at Naien. His face had completely shut down at Rodney’s rejection. He was still facing forward but his eyes were vacant like he was somewhere far away. His shoulders had sloped down minutely and there was a tension in his forearms that spoke of clenched fists. He was holding it together remarkably well considering his future was being discussed around him without his input. John remembered the feeling from his own childhood, listening to his parents decide what university he was going to and what course he would do when he was barely into middle school, knowing that he could buy all the model airplanes in the world but he would never get the chance to fly one. He felt his own hands curl into fists.

Naien was a smart kid, smarter than most adults he’d known, and he idolized Rodney. He had fallen into learning technology so fast and with such passion, John knew he could never be happy doing anything else. With the level of technology around Hericia, he would probably never learn anything as advanced as Rodney had shown him again. He would be miserable, stuck farming or taking care of the other children for the rest of his days.

Rodney cared deeply about him, John knew for certain. Any objections he had would be about his own ability to do right by Naien rather than for lack of interest in taking him in. If he could just make him see…

John grabbed Rodney’s shoulder, squeezing until he turned to face him. There was so much panic in his face, so much doubt and uncertainty. Sheppard smiled reassuringly.

“A roof, a hearth and a wealth of years,” he said, parroting Teyla’s words. “You can give him those, Rodney, and you won’t be alone.”

“We fight the Wraith,” Rodney said, fear in his voice but John could tell he was weakening. “What we do isn’t safe. We don’t even know if where we _live_ is safe yet.”

“I want to help,” Naien chimed in quietly. There was steel in his voice and his sun-bleached irises that they had never seen before. “The Wraith killed my friends. I want to help fight. I just need you to teach me how.”

Rodney looked at the determined frown on the normally vibrant face. John could feel the tension slip out of his shoulders the minute he made up his mind. He grabbed the plaque, attached it to a pouch and drew out the bracelet. From over his shoulder, John could see that the bag was filled with beads of all different sorts. The bracelet was a thick leather cord with a loop on one end and a small metal bar on the other. There was an iron stopper at the bar end with the same symbol from Rodney’s headband engraved into it.

“If you can’t keep up with what I’m teaching you-” McKay threatened.

“I will, I promise,” Naien said immediately, practically vibrating with excitement. Rodney finally sighed and tossed him the band. As soon as it was in his hand, he launched across the line of dishes, wrapping his arms around Rodney’s head and John’s waist. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he laugh-sobbed.

Rodney patted him awkwardly while John and the rest of the room broke into laughter, the Magisters clanging their plates rowdily. Naien finally peeled away from them and sprinted out of the hall. The others began filing slowly out the door and back into the din of celebration. Rodney was still kneeling in his spot, frowning at the bag in his hand. John crouched down and draped himself over his back, one arm wrapping over his shoulder and around him in a half hug.

“You did good, Rodney,” he said gently.

“I hope you’re right,” McKay sighed, rising to his feet and dragging John with him. 

He was sure he was. Rodney was good for Naien and Naien was good for Rodney. And maybe, with the kid around, he’d spend less time fussing over John, he thought with a grin.

“Maybe with Naien around, we’ll actually get the jumper repaired before next harvest,” he said instead.

“Oh, ha, ha,” Rodney rolled his eyes. “Do you know how hard it is to map circuit pathways in a crystal control matrix that uses a dead language as its default?”

John hummed in faux sympathy and flicked at Rodney’s circlet.

“Heavy is the head,” he tutted.

Rodney scowled and turned to march toward the door, his coat flaring out dramatically.

“You get to tell Teyla that we have a new housemate,” he called over his shoulder.

John winced. Oh, yeah, that was going to be fun. 

But, he thought fondly as he exited into the square to see Naien showing his bracelet to the younger children, it was going to be worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John makes an error in judgment and Rodney raises an army.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took me so long to get out. I've had the first 8k of this chapter written since July and it's taken me this long to find the time and the motivation to finish it but IT'S DONE! 
> 
> I actually work in the news and as you can imagine it's been a hectic year that's only gotten worse as its gone on. BUT WE'RE HERE NOW! Hopefully, since we're starting to get into some of the bigger elements of this story, you're all still enjoying it. 
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read! Have a good one guys and let me know if I accidentally slipped in any Australianisms; its been known to happen... XD

Rodney was bent over his worktable, an intense frown pulling his mouth down. He had a Wraith chest plate that they’d liberated from a dead drone spread out before him while he scrutinized the edges of the metal for a seam of some kind. He was sure that the Wraith’s ability to withstand more than a single stun blast must be due to more than just a stronger physiology like Carson had suggested. There had to be some kind of technology involved. He just had to get at the wiring, which had to be between the two halves of the front chest plate.

“Aha!” he grinned.

There was a small divot on the top most edge of the side where it would be hidden by an arm when worn. He grabbed a chisel from the bench and began slowly prising the two plates apart. He set the back plate aside and raked his eyes over the inside of the front. It was covered top to bottom with the Wraith’s vein-like wiring. The normal yellow glow was absent, leaving them looking pallid and disgustingly dead. He shuddered, trying to shake off the disturbing image, and reached for his tablet.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here…”

“Should you really be playing with that?” Sheppard wondered. Rodney jumped and looked over to see him leaning in the doorway with a hand on his hip. “They do tend to explode, you know.”

“It’s fine. I already took out the self-destruct. Naien’s drawing me a diagram as his next assignment,” Rodney dismissed with a gesture to where the kid was slouched over his own end of the workbench, the disassembled tech in front of him and a pencil sticking out the corner of his mouth as he prodded at the wiring with one hand and tried to keep Schrodinger from sticking his nose in it with the other.

They’d retrieved them from Hericia that afternoon, having finally cleared enough of Nemus for them to be comfortable bringing a child and an annoyingly independent animal back with them. Rodney had wanted to wait until tomorrow, tired after their jaunt offworld that morning but John had convinced him he couldn’t put off taking Naien any longer. Dinae was getting impatient with his reluctance and had threatened to simply shove the kid through the ‘gate to their new home without warning if he didn’t get on with the business of being a proper Magister.

“You gave a thirteen year old a bomb?” John asked.

Rodney’s eyes snapped up, about to be offended that John thought so little of his caretaking abilities. But there was amusement rather than concern in his eyes, trust in the way he hadn’t moved from his slump. Rodney warmed from the inside out, a blush rising in his cheeks from the clear faith John had in his ability to do this right.

“Obviously I disabled it first,” he huffed, trying to cover up his moment of weakness. “It was a good lesson on how you shouldn’t pay attention to the movies. Whoever started that whole ‘red wire, blue wire’ thing has obviously never seen a real bomb.”

“Naien’s never seen a _movie_ , Rodney. And I don’t think any of them would help with defusing Wraith bombs anyway,” he said with an eye roll as he pushed up and wandered into the room.

Rodney had done some exploring when they returned from Hericia and claimed the east wing lab that was closest to his and John’s room and furthest from the entry hall. John had immediately decided that he wanted the room furthest back in the residential wing, claiming it was the most tactically sound as it was away from the front door but a short walk from the jumper bay, making escape easy if it ever became necessary. Rodney had been remembering the Siege and how easily they had been cut off from escape. He chose not to argue, despite how annoying it was walking to the mess in the mornings.

The lab itself wasn’t as large as he was used to, adding further proof to their theory that the Azyma really weren’t science focused people. There was a central worktable about seven feet long and four small stools that were mercifully metal and hadn’t rotted out like the rest of the furniture they’d found in the complex. To the right wall was a storage cupboard that was empty except for some basic tools and one cube like device that he hadn’t yet discovered the purpose of. To the opposite wall was a console full of research notes that Rodney hadn’t had time to go through. They were still trying to determine the purpose of half the rooms in Nemus and now they’d had to add kid-proofing to the list of tasks they had to get through.

“What’s a movie?” Naien asked curiously.

“That’s so not important,” Rodney frowned. He clicked his fingers and pointed down to the machinery. “You’re working with an explosive device. Pay attention to what you’re doing or I’m never letting you near a real one.”

The kid’s eyes lit up at the idea of live ordinance and, god, Rodney had created a monster. He turned back to his work sketching out the design on a pad of paper, Schrodinger eyeing the end of the pencil in fascination, the wooden beads of Naien’s bracelet rattling against the table.

The Herician Magisters had spent the rest of the Eligens explaining to him his new duties as a mentor, including the strange bracelet system. They were almost like representations of school units completed. For every lesson that Naien mastered, he got a new bead for his bracelet and the harder the lesson, the richer the bead material. He was grasping the basics fairly fast considering he was practically illiterate when they’d met. He could read and write at somewhere approaching his age level now, and he’d learned rudimentary maths so fast Rodney almost got whiplash going from times tables to differential calculus. He had two wood beads already and was fast moving toward a third with his graphing and drawing ability.

Rodney had been so scared to take him on knowing everything that he’d have to change to make it work but he knew that John had been right. Naien would have been wasted on Hericia and Rodney worked better when he had a sounding board. Not to mention how much faster things would go when he had an extra set of hands. There were still almost a dozen labs on this floor alone and he couldn’t go through all of them by himself and maintain the jumpers _and_ go on missions.

Speaking of, Sheppard was standing before him in full gear, both holsters strapped down and his belt loaded with supplies, a P-90 in his hands.

“Are we going somewhere?” he asked with a frown. He didn’t remember them discussing another strike any time soon. He was still running simulations on the repaired jumper and they had agreed not to take one of the others into potential danger unless they had to, wanting to keep them in good condition for as long as possible.

“Teyla and I are going on a milk run,” he answered.

“Oh, sure,” he started rising. “Well, give me ten minutes to grab my things and-“

“You’re not coming, Rodney,” John cut him off with a wince.

“What? Of course I am.”

“Someone needs to stay with Naien.”

Rodney gritted his teeth and glanced over at the kid who was watching them both with wide eyes. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he knew that Sheppard was right. Naien was smart but he was still a kid. He touched things he shouldn’t, he wandered off and he got into trouble. He couldn’t come with them on missions, he’d never even considered allowing it, and they couldn’t leave him alone in an unexplored Ancient outpost either.

He knew all of those things but that didn’t stop the anxiety from clawing at him. John going off without him had never ended well for either of them. Hell, last time they’d separated, John had ended up shivved in a prison cell and had been this close to dying of sepsis. He thought of the time they’d encountered that lone Wraith on the desert planet, how Gaul had said that he couldn’t stand on the sidelines anymore. He kind of hated how much worse he’d gotten since then.

“Sheppard…” Rodney started.

“We’ll be fine. We’re just going to Urnell for some food, McKay. We’ll be back before sundown,” he assured.

Rodney considered his options. He could try insisting that Teyla should stay to watch Naien, but he didn’t feel like getting his ass kicked today. He could try to persuade them to bring Naien with them, but he had already acknowledged that that was a terrible idea for so many reasons. He could ask them to wait until he convinced Dinae to take the kid for a day, but he was sure that would only get him a lecture on the responsibilities of being a Magister and his commitment to the Eligens.

He sighed and fixed John with a hard look.

“If you’re not back in twelve hours…”

Sheppard grinned and leaned over the bench to kiss him quickly.

“You’ll come and save me so you can kill me yourself, I know,” he teased fondly as he headed for the door.

“And bring steak! I’m craving beef!”

“Yes, dear!” the response echoing lightly back down the corridor.

Rodney stared out the door for a moment more as he chewed his lip. Something wasn’t right. Sheppard was acting…

He shook it off. He didn’t like being apart any more than Rodney did. John was probably just as concerned as he was, only his practicality was winning out unlike McKay.

“Rodney? Will they come back?” Naien asked quietly, fingers scratching the cat’s head gently.

“Of course they will. Now shut up and finish the diagram,” he snapped.

To his credit, Naien didn’t mention the waver in Rodney’s voice as they both went back to work.

…

John met up with Teyla in the hall outside the labs and they began the trek back to the jumper bay. With every step he felt his smile slip a little bit further, tension creeping back into his shoulders without Rodney as the balm to his frayed nerves.

“You did not tell him the truth,” Teyla noted softly.

“No, I didn’t,” John sighed. “We aren’t sure. There’s no point in worrying him.”

“If Lieutenant Ford was the one to kill that Wraith and remove its enzyme pouch, then Rodney deserves to know. He was his teammate too,” she said disapprovingly.

“I know that, but if Ford is still on the enzyme then we don’t know how stable he’s going to be. He gave McKay a hard enough time when he was clean. I don’t want Rodney anywhere near him until we know whether or not we can help him.”

“John, you can’t protect Rodney like this. He will not thank you for it,” she warned.

John ran a hand over his face. He knew she was right. Rodney was going to be royally pissed when they got back and he’d have every right. John was lying to him and going off on a potentially dangerous mission without telling him where. When they came back, hopefully with Ford, he was going to have to do some major grovelling to get back in his good graces.

“Let’s just find Ford first and I’ll worry about mending fences later,” he decided.

Teyla shook her head but said nothing as they walked into the jumper bay. He really hoped there was still a fence _to_ mend after this.

…

They arrived on P3M-736 just as the sun was setting, the stifling heat beginning to lessen into an even less pleasant sauna of sweat, the light drizzle evaporating on contact with the scorching ground creating a cloying mist. John flew the jumper a ways from the ‘gate, looping around as he scanned for any noticeable traces of life. There were several small animals in amongst the brush and a couple of somethings larger but it was impossible to tell if any of them were human.

He set them down in amongst the trees a manageable way from the ‘gate and cloaked. John shed his jacket as he stepped out, sweat already sliding in rivulets down the line of his spine. He rolled the sleeves of his cream-coloured linen shirt to the elbows and envied Teyla’s singlet top briefly.

“Alright, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover,” he sighed, grabbing his P-90 from the bench. “This would be easier if we had a bigger team.”

Teyla arched an eyebrow. John was pathetically glad she hadn’t pointed out that they could have easily had another set of eyes.

“There was a cave a short walk from the Stargate,” she said. “It would be an ideal place to camp.”

“Good thinking. Let’s start there then.”

They started the trek back to the ‘gate, the rain still coming down in lazy trickles and the waft of damp vegetation under foot filling the air. If it wasn’t so damned hot, John thought it might have even made for a good getaway spot. A tent under the stars, some hunting, there was a nice stream where they could catch some fish. He thought briefly about bringing Rodney for some R&R but he could just imagine the complaining.

It had been bad enough when they came through the first time. He’d spent the first hour complaining about how they should really have hazmat suits with these radiation levels and the next three constantly reapply sunblock until John had pointed out they only had so much of the substance and Rodney shouldn’t waste it all on the one day. He’d spent a further two hours whinging about millisieverts or something until they’d happened on the dead Wraith.

John frowned as he remembered the way Rodney had immediately started panic-rambling about how Wraith rarely travelled alone and how long it would be until someone noticed that this one was missing. John had bent and started striping everything of use he could find from its pockets; a stunner, some grenades, a small computer of some kind on a wrist band. On a whim, he’d taken the chest plate, figuring if nothing else the self-destruct system could come in handy when they started running short on C4. It was as he was slipping it over the Wraith’s shoulders that he’d noticed the deep incision in its arm and he remembered what Carson had told them about the enzyme.

He’d grabbed his bounty and dragged Rodney back toward the ‘gate. Teyla had seen the same thing he had and followed without question, her stunner pointed into the trees.

He really didn’t know what to think. For the past few months, he’d been wondering what had happened to the Lieutenant once he’d flown through the ‘gate, especially since the jumper’s autopilot would disengage on the other side. Alone in the Pegasus Galaxy with no jumper and off his head on Wraith enzyme, John couldn’t imagine that was an easy way to live. Even with the jumper and Rodney, John had struggled to acclimatise to this new existence. The thought of doing it alone was scary beyond belief, surrounded as they were by unknown threats and unfamiliar terrain.

What would being alone and drugged out of your mind for so many months do to a person? John almost hoped they didn’t find Ford. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see what being stationed in Atlantis had done to the bright young marine he had known.

A metallic whirring snapped his attention up. They were on the edge of the clearing around the ‘gate and the chevrons were spinning to life. He and Teyla dropped low to the ground, hiding themselves in the brush. The wormhole came to life with a whoosh and cast a blue glow over the now darkened space.

John cursed as a puddle jumper flew out and landed softly near the DHD.

“What the hell are they doing here?” he groaned.

“This address is from the Atlantis database. They must have come to explore as we did,” Teyla said.

John frowned as he watched the hatch lower and a team of marines pile out, all of them carrying stunners and P-90s.

“That’s more than a standard recon mission. They must have found the Wraith and guessed it was Ford too.”

“That is good, isn’t it?” Teyla asked. “Surely those in Atlantis would be more equipped to help Aiden than we are.”

“Sure, if they actually plan on helping him,” he replied, warily eying the compact sub-machineguns. “I don’t know what the situation is like on Atlantis right now but I do know Earth politics. The marines will have orders to take him out if they can’t bring him in, neutralise the security threat.”

“They would kill one of their own?” Teyla balked, disgusted by the idea. John didn’t blame her.

“Let’s not let it come to that. Do you think you can distract them?”

“Distract them how?” She narrowed her eyes. Sheppard blinked and realised how that sounded. He scrambled to explain.

“You know, they won’t have reason to suspect you for anything. They think you’re out looking for a new planet. So, you just go with the truth: you were out exploring, found the Wraith, figured it was Ford and stayed to try and find him. Offer to help them. They’ll probably hope having one of his friends with them will make him more willing to come quietly.”

Teyla nodded thoughtfully, taking off her earwig and storing it in her pack.

“I will lead them away from the cave. Be quick, John. Colonel Lorne is with them and he is very perceptive. I will not be able to fool him for long.”

“I’ll check in in three hours. Do what you can until then,” he confirmed.

She agreed, set a timer on her watch and strode out toward to jumper. John watched nervously as all the guns snapped to her. With a sharp gesture from one of them, they were lowered and he figured that must be Lorne. Jesus, he knew Teyla said he was young but the man looked like he was barely in his thirties. How the hell had he ended up CO of Atlantis?

They spoke for a few moments more before the group split, Lorne and Teyla heading in one direction, two marines he didn’t recognise going in another and the final two staying by the jumper. John carefully worked his way around the edge of the clearing, keeping out of sight until he was on the other side and continued on toward the cave. He moved as quickly as he dared in the uneven terrain, hopping over logs and ducking under branches. He was getting closer, could just make out the edge of a small clearing through a crack in the rock when he heard a high-pitched whine and then all he knew was red light and pain and darkness.

…

When he came to, he was sitting propped against a wall, the painful dig in his wrists and pulling in his shoulders cluing him into the fact that his hands were tied. He blinked into the harsh light, trying to clear the spots from his vision and the pounding from his skull.

That wasn’t good. He must have missed his check in. Teyla was going to be pissed and if she was pissed enough, she’d call Rodney who would be through that ‘gate before John had time to come up with a decent explanation for this whole little misadventure.

He shifted subtly, testing the give in the bonds. They were tight but if he twisted his wrist just so, the flex should stretch the rope enough to create a small gap, enough to wriggle his hand free. As he worked on his hands, he turned his attention to his surroundings. He was in the cave, he realised, sat against one side with his rear freezing against the dusty stone floor. It was several degrees cooler in the shade of the rocky indent, a breeze sweeping in and stirring the dirt around his bound feet. He followed the cast of light along the wall to the cavemouth and froze.

Crouched over a pile of his belongings was a man with tanned skin covered in mud and dirt, dreadlocks hanging down into his eyes and ratty patchwork clothes draped over broad shoulders. He was picking through the items from John’s belt, examining and discarding his radio, his stunner, some nutbars. He paused curiously at the zat, squeezing the grip so that the gun unfolded with a sizzling sound.

“I’d be careful with that,” John called. “I’ve been told it stings a bit, being shot with that much electricity.”

The man looked at him from among the ropes of hair with narrowed eyes. He slowly straightened up and, goddamn, he was _big._ John hasn’t seen anyone that size since he stopped playing football in high school, even among the toughest of the marines.

He turned the weapon over in his hands a few more times then turned to a nearby rock, firing it several times in quick succession. They both watched as it disappeared in a burst of atoms, John feeling distinctly queasy with the ease the man showed in figuring out the technology.

The man nodded appreciatively, turning his aim back to Sheppard.

“Look, I figure if you wanted me dead, I’d be dead by now. So, why don’t you tell me who you are and what you want,” he tried. The man stared silently at him over the top of the zat. “Okay, be that way. I’ll go first. My name is Major John Sheppard.”

He bit his tongue when the rank slipped out, being back in a combat situation bringing old habits out of him. He should have gone with Maverick, he cursed inwardly. There were Atlantis personnel around and if this guy mentioned him then he was done.

“Major?” the man rumbled questioningly.

“It’s my rank. Military designation.”

He stared for a beat more.

“Specialist Ronon Dex,” he answered.

“That’s you?” John blinked.

“Name and rank,” the man, Ronon replied, stepping back to the pile of equipment. “Nice gun. Where’d you get it? Never seen tech like this.”

“A long way away from here,” he replied slowly, eyes tracking his movements as he kneeled down. “You’re military?”

Ronon paused, his shoulders were stiff with pain that John recognized every time he looked in the mirror. Dex looked over his shoulder, face tight and blank.

“I used to be. It was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, me too,” he sighed heavily. Ronon turned more fully toward him, a curious furrow in his brows. “My commanding officer was being interrogated and fed on by a Wraith. I shot him. The folks back home weren’t too understanding about that,” John found himself explaining.

Ronon’s gaze tracked over him from head to foot. Sheppard felt exposed, tied up with no weapons and this strange wild man’s entire attention focused on him. He didn’t like anyone but Rodney giving his body such a thorough onceover.

“They’ve never been on the frontlines,” Dex surmised.

“Not against the Wraith, no. They’ve never even seen one.”

Ronon’s sceptical gaze locked onto his face. He must have seen the honesty there because he grunted dismissively.

“We would have done the same. Basic Mission Protocol. Don’t let information fall into enemy hands.”

Sheppard stared. This guy really was a soldier.

“We call it ‘Standard Operating Procedure’ but yeah, that’s what I figured. Unfortunately, it doesn’t make sense to someone who hasn’t seen what they can do.”

Ronon straightened back up, fishing Sheppard’s thigh holster from the pile and attaching it to his own leg, sliding the zat home. He pulled out his own weapon, a long-barrelled handgun with a glowing orange crystal on one end and began checking it over.

“Look, what’s the plan here? Because I just came to this planet looking for a friend of mine and if you kill me, I’ve got someone waiting for me back home who’ll find a way to bring me back just so he can murder me again which isn’t really my idea of a good time.”

The man tucked his gun back into its sheath, pulling the Wraith grenades from the pile as well as the bandages and the food.

“Take out the men guarding the Ring of the Ancestors. Go through before the Wraith show up,” he rumbled.

“Wraith? Why would the Wraith come here?” John wondered, alarmed.

Ronon grabbed the P-90 from the pile, turning it over a few times before pulling the hammer back easily, sighting down the barrel at the wall.

“Your friend. He dresses like the ones at the Ring. They your friends too?”

John was getting whiplash trying to keep up with the twists and turns in this conversation.

“Actually, no. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention me to them. But you’ve seen Ford? A kid with one eye all black?” he demanded. His hands were almost loose enough, the slight trickle of blood from his abused skin helping his wrists slide against the rope.

“He killed the Wraith that was hunting me,” Ronon said, scooping up a bag from the floor, a wrapped bundle with what looked suspiciously like the hilt of a sword poking out one end tied securely to the top.

“Hunting you? Why would the Wraith be hunting you?” he asked.

“Maverick?” Teyla’s tinny voice crackled from the pile of belongings. “Maverick, can you hear me?”

“What is that?” Ronon demanded, hand reaching for his weapon.

“Radio. Communications device. My partner trying to contact me,” he answered.

Dex rummaged in the pile until he came up with the small black box, turning it over curiously.

“Your name’s Sheppard,” he glared distrustfully.

“Maverick’s a codename. Like I said, the people at the ‘gate aren’t my biggest fans.”

Ronon stalked out of the cave with the radio. John redoubled his efforts at the ropes. Rodney was so not going to be happy about this.

…

Rodney was pacing. Normally, he would consider it a pointless waste of energy. Why spend resources on physical movement when he could be thinking of a solution? But that was before he and John got together and the man had made a habit doing stupid things.

Like _lying to his face._

Something about the way Sheppard had been acting had niggled at Rodney’s conscience long after he and Teyla had left Nemus. He kept finding himself staring at the datapad in his hands having not typed anything into it for so long Naien had thought he’d fallen asleep with his eyes open. He was too loose, too purposefully casual as he slouched in the doorway, his smile that little bit too wide.

Eventually, his paranoia had gotten the better of him and he’d gone out to the DHD to pull the last addresses dialled. In under five minutes he’d determined that Urnell, a planet of friendly hunter-gatherers that Arcus had introduced them to, was nowhere on that list. John had lied to him and Teyla had helped. They’d gone off to do something dangerous and left him behind to take care of the kid like some forties _housewife._

He kept listing all the different deadly things they could be caught up in, none of them, in his mind, survivable. Why? Why had they gone without him?

_You know why,_ a voice whispered.

Rodney shoved it down into the deepest parts of his mind. He didn’t have the time for it. He checked his watch. They’d been gone ten hours.

He’d sent Naien to bed some time ago and now he was pacing the length of the lab, the Wraith chest plate forgotten on the table as he stalked from one wall to the other and back again. He had no way of knowing which of the fifty addresses they’d gone to but if they weren’t back by tomorrow, he’d take a puddle jumper and check them _all._ He could call Dinae to rally the Herician fighters. He was a Magister, it was within his rights. And there were a few other people in Pegasus that owed them a favour or two. He could have a veritable army ready to deploy in hours.

He checked his watch. Ten hours, fifteen minutes. He groaned and grabbed the tablet, jamming the connection into the chest plates exposed wiring.

They weren’t overdue for another two hours. He jabbed viciously at the screen and wondered if his anger was worth the effort of moving all of John’s things into another room for when he came back. Rodney sure as hell wasn’t going to pretend he was fine with all of this.

Sheppard better have a damn good reason.

…

John really didn’t know how he’d gotten to this point. One minute he had a gun trained on Ronon, then he was learning that the Wraith were even more sadistic than he’d thought, that Dex was something called a ‘Runner’, and now he was basically performing surgery with a penknife and nothing but the scanners small screen showing a roadmap of how to do this without leaving the man paralysed.

To his credit, Ronon sat perfectly still, not flinching an inch despite the growls of pain as John butchered his back. He was facing into Sheppard’s chest, gun pressed into his abdomen while he leaned over the top of his head. It wasn’t the best angle but he was making it work. Well, he was trying. God, he wished Carson was here with some good drugs and an actual goddamn _clue_ what he was doing.

Finally, the small metallic disk came into view, nestled right up along side his spine. He pressed the knife in again, cutting away the scar tissue bonded to the edge of the device. Ronon hissed, his hot breath gusting through John’s shirtfront uncomfortably. He managed to wriggle the knife under the disk and flick up, dislodging it with a sickening squelch.

“Got it!” he exclaimed, snatched it up and dropped it to the ground, crushing it under his heel. “See? Told you I could do it.”

Ronon huffed a laugh and collapsed forward, the gun dropping from his hand to the dirt. John grabbed at his shoulders, easing him down onto his side. Well, he certainly felt better now that he didn’t have a powerful energy weapon pressing into his squishy bits. He grabbed one of the dressings from the ground and spared a moment to wince at the dirt on the bandage and already caked around the edges of the wound. He didn’t have any water or alcohol he could use to clean it so it would have to keep for a few hours until he could get them somewhere safe where they’d have time to deal with it properly.

The bleeding stemmed, he reached back to Ronon’s pile and fished out the radio.

“Teyla, this is Maverick. You reading me?” he tried. There were a few moments of silence.

“Maverick, I have found Lieutenant Ford. We are-“

The words cut off abruptly. John’s hand tightened around the radio.

“Teyla, report,” he ordered.

Gunfire split through the quiet of the forest. John started toward the gap into the rock but he froze, cursing. He couldn’t leave Ronon here, passed out and defenceless. He turned back. The floor was empty save a splotch of blood where he’d been laying, shirt and weapons gone. John growled, noticing his P-90 still laying on the ground by the cave entrance. He snatched it up and ran, following the sound of automatic weapons fire through the scrub.

He burst into a clearing just as Teyla cut the rope wrapped around her ankle that held her dangling from a tree. She landed in a graceful crouch, rising to her feet as she eyed Ronon who was retrieving a blue-handled knife from the ground.

“Teyla, you okay?” he demanded, eyes fixed into the trees where he could hear footsteps running away.

“I am fine, Maverick. Go. Aiden is not well.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He took off. It only took him a few moments to catch up, breaking through the trees to see the wayward soldier ahead of him.

“Ford!” he called, the sound of his voice brining his attention around.

“Sheppard, I heard you died,” he grinned. The expression was distorted and manic on his twisted features.

“Not quite. Keep your hands where I can see ‘em,” John ordered and pointed his P-90. If he still had his stunner or the zat…

Wraith darts buzzed low across the treetops, culling beams active. Ford reached for his sidearm. John fired, the single shot grazing his thigh sending blood misting into the night air.

“We’re trying to help you!” he insisted. Ford wasn’t listening, madness shining in his eyes. He lifted the pistol. “You’re not getting off this planet!”

The darts were getting closer and closer. Ford looked up as one passed right over his head.

“You’ll see,” the Lieutenant whispered. A culling beam struck the ground behind him. “You’ll all see!”

John watched what happened next in slow motion. Ford’s arm dropped down. His body twisted to the side. He ran. The beam scooped him up and the dart disappeared back toward the ‘gate.

He was gone. Just like that, John had failed him again. His teammate, his friend had let himself be taken by the Wraith rather than accept their help. He couldn’t help but wonder what a terrible CO he must have been for him to have seen that as his only choice. Had he not shown that he could trust him? That he would do whatever he had to to protect his people? Maybe that was the problem. He didn’t have people anymore. He was a rogue agent, only fighting for himself and those closest to him. Rodney had been right. He was a Maverick in more than just name. How could Ford trust someone like him?

He was caught up in his thoughts, spiralling further down. He didn’t hear the footsteps until it was too late.

“Stop right there! Hands up!” a voice ordered.

John froze, his weapon lowered at his side. He raised his free hand, cursing himself mentally for forgetting where he was for a moment.

“Drop the weapon and turn around,” they ordered.

He gritted his teeth, tossing the gun aside and raising the other hand to match.

“I’m not gonna turn around,” he said lightly. He forced his shoulders to remain loose and unconcerned while his brain ran, trying to come up with a way out that didn’t involve revealing himself to Atlantis. The fact that Earth thought they were dead was their biggest advantage at the moment.

“Oh yeah, why not?” the voice which he was pretty sure belonged to Lorne asked.

“My name’s Maverick and anonymity is pretty much the only thing keeping me alive these days,” he hedged. There was a pause.

“Maverick the Wraith slayer?” Lorne asked, voice doubtful. “Right, and where’s the Doc?”

John was equal parts frustrated that this wasn’t working and glad that the person in change of keeping Atlantis safe had a healthy sense of scepticism.

“Keeping the engine running.”

“That’s just a crazy story people are telling each other to make themselves feel better about the Wraith winning,” he denied.

“Winning what?” John asked.

“The war in this galaxy. They destroyed Atlantis.”

“I think you and I both know that’s not true,” he said without thinking. He winced, knowing he’d given away too much.

There was silence for a moment. Then, the press of a P-90 muzzle against the centre of his spine. John stiffened.

“Who the hell are you?” Lorne asked, voice suddenly much closer than before.

John’s mind raced as he tried to figure out what to say, how to get out of this. There was the whir of an energy weapon, a flash of red out of the corner of his eye, and Lorne grunted in pain. The pressure on his spine vanished as the Colonel collapsed to the ground. He turned to see Ronon propped against Teyla’s side, pain creating a thin sheen of sweat over his brow, his gun arm lowering slowly.

“What took you so long?” he grinned. The Runner returned it with a feral smile of his own. Teyla adjusted her grip on the larger man’s arm.

“We ran into several Wraith on our way,” she answered, frowning down at the unconscious soldier. “This is the second time Colonel Lorne has been stunned today. I hope this does not cause him trouble when he returns to Atlantis.”

John felt a little bad for the man. He was young to be in command and being knocked out twice in so short a time wasn’t going to help him gain the respect of those under him. He sighed. Lorne seemed like a good man and he didn’t want to ruin his career just so they could make a clean getaway.

He patted down the Colonel’s tac vest until he found a notepad and a pen.

“What are you doing, Maverick?” Teyla asked curiously.

“Leaving them some useful intel. Hopefully, whoever’s in charge these days will go easy on him then,” John told her.

He stared at the paper for a moment and remembered how he and Rodney had recognised Teyla’s writing back on the Rim. He swapped the pen to his left hand. Not many people knew he was ambidextrous and he was fairly sure he hadn’t actually written anything with his left hand while he’d been in Atlantis.

He quickly scratched down the address for Hericia and a short note:

_‘If you ever need a hand, find Arcus or Dinae. They know how to reach us. Ask them for the device we left behind. Call it a ‘thank you’ for not shooting me in the back.’_

Just for fun, he signed it ‘Maverick the Wraith Slayer’. He tucked the note into a pocket where he knew Lorne would find it if he restocked his vest like he should.

“You’re giving them the Wraith data device?” Teyla asked with a frown.

“We’ve found more since then and Doc already made a copy of it anyway. They might be able to do something with it that we can’t,” he answered.

“Can we go now?” Ronon rumbled, trying to force himself upright. He swayed, overcorrected and toppled sideways. John managed to grab him before he dragged Teyla over with him, slipping his other arm over his shoulders.

“You going to make the walk back to where we parked?” he asked seriously.

“Don’t really have a choice.”

They set off into a forest filled with Wraith and marines and John hoped he made the right choice leaving that note.

…

Rodney had waited approximately fifteen minutes past scheduled check in to dial the first person on his list. Augustern had smiled warmly and swept Rodney into a bone-crushing hug, Naien hanging back at his side with a cautious frown.

“Doctor McKay! You finally decided to take me up on that rematch did you?” he boomed cheerfully, pearly teeth gleaming through the thick ginger beard.

Rodney blanched at the memory of being curled on the forest floor heaving up stew and ale in equal measure after their last encounter.

“Er, no, not quite. I need your help. Sheppard’s missing,” he said grimly.

Like a switch, the smile was gone, the shoulders squared and the bushy eyebrows came down in a serious frown. The warrior was in.

“Wraith?” he asked.

“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me where he was going and he’s missed check in.”

That was that. He returned to the inn where he’d been staying and came back out dressed for war, a blackened cuirass over a dark leather surcoat, a pistol on each hip, a knife on each wrist and an enormous rifle slung over his shoulder. It was some bizarre combination of medieval knight and mid-twentieth century mobster. Rodney stared as he scraped his red curls back into a bun and fastened them with a piece of worn blue ribbon.

“A bit old fashioned,” he chuckled, correctly interpreting his bewildered expression, rapping on the metal chest piece. “But it keeps the Wraith from feeding so we learn to fight in it.”

“You look so cool,” Naien had beamed, using the phrase he’d picked up from Sheppard.

“Help me get Sheppard back and I’ll make you one that’ll do more than just stop them feeding,” Rodney promised.

“Lead the way, Doctor,” he grinned.

Augustern was the first but he wasn’t the last. Rodney made several other calls and now they were approaching two hours overdue. He was tapping away at the console in the main room at Nemus, the red-haired knight at one shoulder and Dinae at the other, both pouring over the list of addresses Rodney had lifted from the DHD. Below them, bodies moved in and out distributing weapons and running drills while they waited for a target.

“I know several of these worlds,” Dinae said. “Trading partners and friends but these,” he pointed to a group of three, “were wiped out by the Wraith some time ago. They have not been inhabited in many years.”

“This one,” Augustern pointed, “is a Wraith stronghold. I tried to get in myself once but it was too heavily guarded.”

Rodney nodded, moving the symbols off into three groups: ‘Wraith’, ‘Clean’, and ‘Unknown’. So far, their Unknown list was vastly outweighing anything else. Rodney desperately tried to concentrate over the clamour of voices and stench of gun oil permeating the entry hall. There had to be something that Sheppard had said or done, some clue as to where he would go.

When had he started acting strange, he wondered. It was only yesterday after they’d picked up Naien. Rodney went cold, the persistent voice he’d been ignoring all day creeping back to whisper its insidious questions. Was that it? Had Sheppard realised that he regretted bringing home a kid? Maybe John hadn’t gone missing, maybe he and Teyla had just abandoned him because they didn’t want to be saddled with him and his accidentally acquired apprentice.

He wrenched his thoughts away from those musings. He didn’t have time for them right now. John was in danger somewhere and needed his help. There was no use worrying about anything else until he knew whether or not he could be found.

He growled and raked his eyes down the list again. There had to be something! One address suddenly jumped out at him. The radiation baked jungle where they’d found the dead Wraith.

And it was on the list twice.

“It’s that one,” he said confidently, pulling the symbols up large on the screen. “There was a dead drone. Sheppard hustled us out of there but he’s been twitchy ever since. He must have gone back there for some reason.”

Augustern clapped him on the shoulder, staggering Rodney into the console.

“Well done, McKay! Give me ten minutes to organise the fighters and we can-“

“Magister McKay!”

They all turned to the archway leading into the facility. A young Herician man jogged across the floor, a sword on his back and a crude rifle in his hands. It was Linee, the man that Rodney had sent to the top of one of the spires as a lookout. He stopped at the base of the dais, panting and flushed.

“Magister, the Ring of the Ancestors just activated.”

Dinae snapped into action, ordering the Hericians into formation around the door. Augustern bellowed for the remaining rabble of volunteers to gather their weapons. Rodney cursed as he swiped his own P-90 from the bench and took aim at the door. Whoever tried to come through that door was keeping him from getting the love of his life back and he was in no goddamn mood today.

He drew the hammer back, eyes narrowing as the door glided open.

…

John groaned as he hauled Ronon’s stumbling form through the ‘gate to Nemus, his neck aching from the whiplash of their landing.

They’d managed to make it back to the jumper before Lorne and his team regrouped at their own ship, but the darts had made getting out tricky at best. John hadn’t wanted to shoot any of them down, not knowing which one contained his teammate. Instead, he’d evaded and dodged, swerving in and out of trees and hilltops trying to shake them. They’d made it back to the ‘gate and John dialled a random uninhabited planet. Just as they’d decloaked to skid through the ‘gate, a shot collided with the back of the jumper. They shot out the other side going way too fast and the drivepods failed to deploy. They crashed nose-first into the ground.

He tried to think of them as lucky since none of the darts had managed to follow them through the wormhole but the sluggishly bleeding gash on his temple was making thinking at all rather difficult. Teyla was leaning against his other shoulder, limping along on her sprained ankle and breathing in the carefully measured way John knew meant damaged ribs.

They tumbled through the other side onto the metal platform, kept from falling to the ground in a tangle by a combined stubbornness. John led them down the path, too tired to think the lights on despite the miserable overcast weather creating a dark blanket over the midday light. The amphitheatre steps were a struggle, all three of them almost crashing down at the bottom once again. They staggered the last few steps through the knee-high grass to the door. He swiped his hand over the panel and dragged his burdens inside.

“Honey, I’m ho-“

He froze in the doorway. In the entrance hall was over a dozen people, mostly people he recognized. Half of them were arranged in a crescent around the door, P-90s, Genii rifles and Wraith stunners all pointed in their direction. He saw Hericians he remembered from the Eligens mixed with young men and women wearing shining knights armour all blinking at him in surprise. Further into the room were some familiar faces they’d met on their travels, people who had asked Maverick if they could fight with him. His eyes swept over them all until they landed on Rodney standing on the right platform with a gun in his hands gaping down at them.

“Uh, hey, Doc, what’s all this?” he asked lightly. Teyla and Ronon each had weapons up, John’s hands too busy supporting them to have reached for his own.

“You-!” Rodney fumed, stalking down the steps towards them, the Hericians scattering out of his path. “I said twelve hours! What took you so long? We were about to come looking for you.”

John smiled softly at the thought of Rodney reaching out to all these people, calling in favours across the galaxy simply because John hadn’t called in time.

“Sorry, I was a little tied up. But look,” he jostled Ronon gently, the man lowering his gun slowly. “He followed us home. Can we keep him?”

Rodney gaped at him as the crowd dispersed, some looking relieved, others disappointed.

“He’s not a pet, Sheppard!” Rodney scowled. “And I told you to bring beef, not a beefcake.”

“Hey, I’m right here,” John pouted.

“I can see what you mean about him,” Ronon rumbled lowly, right as he passed out, his full weight falling into John’s side.

He staggered and toppled. Rodney rushed forward and caught them, lowering both of them to the ground. Teyla caught herself against the wall, leaning to take the weight off her ankle.

“What?” Rodney asked, eyes taking in the dishevelled, bloody state of their new friend. “What have you been telling him about me?”

“Just the truth,” he smirked. “That you’d find a way to bring me back from the dead and kill me yourself if I didn’t make it home.” He gazed at the assembled army, spotting Augustern and Dinae off to one side, waiting for permission to approach. “I was trying to be funny but by the looks of things, I was right.”

Rodney huffed, rolling his eyes.

“You think you can get away from me that easily, Sheppard?”

“Not a chance,” he replied, eyes soft. Ronon groaned, starting to stir and John’s expression dropped. “His name’s Ronon. The Wraith put a tracker in his back and hunted him for fun. I cut it out but I’m not exactly a surgeon. He didn’t flinch once.”

“The Wraith destroyed his world,” Teyla added sadly.

John watched Rodney’s face flick through a series of emotions, anger, sadness, annoyance, before finally settling on acceptance.

“What, you thought I’d say ‘no’?” he snarked, gesturing the two men forward. “Let’s get him to the infirmary. Pria, that herbalist we met on 779 was setting up a triage ward there. She can look over Conon’s back and then you can explain where the hell you’ve been.”

Augustern and Dinae each took one of Ronon’s arms, lifting him between them.

“It’s Ronon,” John grinned. He expected some sharp response, some quick-witted banter like he and Rodney always had. Instead, his face shut down, mouth tight and hard as he rose to his feet and stalked off into the facility. John sighed, gazing after him. He’d known Rodney wouldn’t be happy with him but he hadn’t realised how regret would stab through him as he stared at his retreating back.

“Give him time, Sheppard,” Augustern advised in the gentlest voice John had ever heard the massive man use. “We all thought you were taken by the Wraith but Doctor McKay, he thought you might have left him.”

“He said that?” John gasped, feeling the pain lance through him again and turn to ice in his veins.

“No, but it was clear enough,” Dinae agreed. “Whatever your reasons, you lied to him and left him behind. Magister McKay does not strike me as someone who trusts easily. It will take much work to repair what you have broken today.”

They turned and carried Ronon off to the infirmary, leaving John on the floor surrounded by people Rodney had thrown his issues aside and let into their home for his sake.

“Oh,” he breathed brokenly. What had he done?

Teyla patted his shoulder gently and limped into Nemus’ corridors. The silence as she didn’t say ‘I told you so’ screamed louder than the words would have.

…

Rodney didn’t know what he expected to feel when they got John back, relief, anger, overwhelming joy. Certainly not this complete nothingness. As soon as he was sure he was okay, that he wasn’t dead or dying on some alien hellhole somewhere, his emotions had just shut down. He didn’t know what to feel. Obviously something big had happened, he’d met some mountain man and all three of them were pretty banged up, but he couldn’t make himself look at him enough to talk to him. It was like his mind went blank when he’d set eyes on John, his body just wanting to get away, away, _get out now._

He was stalking down the corridors, not really paying attention to where he was going. He passed a few Hericians and some of Augustern’s new troops, barely present enough to nod in reply to their greetings. He’d amassed an army to find Sheppard and now he couldn’t even look at him, how ridiculous was that? He supposed he’d have to find places for them all to sleep now. The sun was starting to set and they still weren’t sure what was living in the forests around Nemus. Some of them had expressed their desire to set up permanently in the outpost, which Rodney had always known would be a possibility. Now he’d have to figure out how they were going to care for all of them. He’d brought them in, it was his responsibility.

He blinked down at the reassembled chest plate in front of him. Without realising it, he’d walked into his lab and sat down at the desk. He would have to talk to Magister Shu’uri about making more cuirasses to outfit the new fighters who were settling in the residential wing.

Rodney picked up his data pad and started tapping away. So much to do, so many plans to make.…

…

It was a few hours later that John found himself standing outside the door to Rodney’s lab reeking of more different herbs than he could count. Pria, not used to the Ancients’ brand of medical technology, preferred to stick to the more tried and true methods of the Pegasus Galaxy. Namely, roots and leaves and good old fashioned needle and thread. There was a brown paste smeared under the bandages that covered the abrasions on his wrists, something green and faintly slimy sealing the cut above his eyebrow and he shuddered at the memory of the bitter red decoction she had forced down his throat for the headache.

He would rather take an aspirin any day if only to avoid the taste but he’ll be damned if it didn’t work. Barely a minute after he’d emptied the vial the persistent throbbing that felt like it was encompassing his whole body had been reduced to almost nothing. If he couldn’t remember the lurching stop, he almost wouldn’t have known he’d crashed a jumper at all.

But no medicine that she had given him had had any effect on the churning guilt in his stomach. He was gutted by the idea that Rodney thought he would just walk away without saying anything. More than that, he was ashamed to realise he hadn’t given him any reason to think otherwise.

Rodney had been on his own for a long time, John knew that. He’d been banished to the furthest corners of their planet, left friendless and alone in not one but two frozen wastelands, first Siberia and then Antarctica.

And John had dragged him to an outpost in the middle of nowhere and left. For all intents and purposes, it looked like he’d gone for a pack of cigarettes and never come back.

He’d done the same thing that any number of people over the course of Rodney’s life had done. He didn’t know if he could or even if he deserved to win his trust back.

But he refused to just let go of the best thing in his life without trying first.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he knocked and thought the door open.

Rodney was folded double over the workbench, just like he’d been yesterday when John had come in to say goodbye. In place of the Wraith chest plate he’d been working on was one of the metal cuirasses he’d seen being worn by Augustern and his friends. He was twisting it this way and that, squinting slightly as he traced the edge of the metal with his finger.

John almost smiled at the absolute concentration on his face, he hadn’t even looked up from what he was doing, but the way he was still kitted in his full mission gear reminded him why he was standing here in the first place.

“Rodney,” John called, stepping further into the room.

McKay jumped and looked up. His eyes widened slightly before his expression fell to something cautiously neutral.

“John,” he answered. “Did Pria fix you up?”

“Nothing that some yarrow root and goula berries couldn’t fix.”

“That’s good,” Rodney nodded, eyes turning back to his work.

John’s heart ached at the stiff formality of the exchange. They hadn’t been this awkward with each other since the first week of their friendship.

“Rodney, I want to apologize for not telling you-“

“It’s fine,” he interrupted. “You’re an adult and you’re your own person, you don’t have to run everything past me.”

“But I should have been honest about where I was going,” John insisted.

“So, why weren’t you?”

John swallowed thickly, his balled fists folding neatly behind his back. He could almost feel Teyla’s raised brow from here.

“Because we were looking for Ford and I didn’t want to put you in danger,” he confessed.

Rodney stared at him and John could practically see the cogs turning in his mind. Sheppard braced for the worst because McKay was never quiet, especially when he was upset about something. He could feel his shoulders stiffening as he waited for the verbal lashing he was sure he deserved.

“… You were trying to protect me?” Rodney asked slowly. At John’s nod, he sighed resignedly. “Alright. Put this on.” He held out the chest plate.

John blinked at it, brow drawing down.

“Why?” he wondered, unsure if it was better or worse that he wasn’t being yelled at.

“So I can protect you,” he answered sarcastically, eyes rolling.

John wasn’t sure where this was going but, given that he was still walking on pretty thin ice, he figured the safest thing to do would be to just go along with it.

He took it, surprised at the weight. It wasn’t exactly as heavy as he’d expect a solid metal vest to be but it wasn’t as light as Kevlar either. The silver metal was smooth and polished to a shine, held together at the shoulders and sides with leather straps and buckles. One of the side straps was undone and John slipped it over his head, closing the buckle firmly once it was situated. It sat snuggly against his torso, tapering in at the waist where it ended along the line of his last rib. There was a small crescent cut from the middle that allowed him to bend forward without the metal pressing uncomfortably into his stomach.

John rapped his knuckles against the plate and wondered why Atlantis hadn’t thought of this before. As powerful as the Wraith were, their feeding hand was still only flesh and teeth. It might be able to shred a few layers of fabric but metal was a whole other thing. It was a hell of a way to level the playing field.

John smiled and looked up-

Just in time to see Rodney pulling the stunner from his pocket, squaring off and firing. Sheppard stumbled back as the blast impacted him centre mass, the blue light rolling over him. John flinched as the pins and needles feeling swept through him but gasped in surprise when he stayed conscious and standing.

“Rodney! What the-!” he began before another shot landed, static electricity radiating outward from the chest plate.

“You were _protecting_ me?!” Rodney roared, firing off another two shots. “From what! We’ve been on Wraith hive ships together, we’ve built bombs, we’ve been kidnapped but _no!_ A drugged out marine was more than I can handle.”

“Rodney, that wasn’t-“ John tried again, the stun blast this time knocking him back into the wall, the cuirass clanging loudly as metal met metal. Each blast felt a little bit closer to what John remembered them being.

“You just left! What if something had happened to you and I’d never have known about it? I’d be here all alone thinking you just-“ Rodney cut himself off, his teeth grinding together and his shooting hand shaking slightly.

John’s heart shattered at the lost look in his scientist’s eyes, the blue he loved so much clouded with grief.

“I would never. Rodney, you have to know I wouldn’t just leave like that, even if things got bad between us. I-“

“But you did,” he cut in, finally dropping the stunner back to the table. “You lied to me about where you were and you didn’t come back-“

“I’m sorry for lying,” John said as he straightened up from the wall and cautiously made his way over to where Rodney had planted his hands on the table. “I should have told you the truth. But I did come home, Rodney. I was just a little late.”

Rodney huffed exasperatedly at the cheeky smirk on John’s lips, some of the tension slipping out of his shoulders. His eyes roamed over Sheppard’s face, judging his sincerity.

“If you ever do that to me again-“

“Won’t happen,” John reassured him, leaning forward to press his forehead to Rodney’s.

“I haven’t forgiven you,” he frowned.

“I know,” Sheppard assured with a smile.

He watched those crystalline blue eyes study him for a moment more before sliding closed, his shoulders finally letting go. Rodney’s hands came up to rest on his hips, fingers brushing against the bottom of the chest plate.

There was a zap and Rodney yelped, jumping away from him and cradling his hand to his chest.

“Damn it,” he hissed, shaking out his fingers. “I need to find a better way to dissipate or redirect the energy from the stunners. There’s too much power being stored in the buffers.”

John laughed at the disgruntled look on his face.

“So I guess we don’t have to worry about stunners anymore,” he grinned.

“Not exactly,” Rodney sighed, his face scrunching up even more. “They can only absorb five shots before the induction plates short out and you’re back to wearing a 15 pound metal vest which is only going to help you if you’re close enough for them to try feeding on you. Not to mention it’ll only absorb stun blasts that actually hit the plate. They get your limbs or your head and it’s night-night, Maverick.”

“That’s still more protection than we’ve ever had, Rodney,” John assured, pulling the strap open to slip out of the armour.

Rodney hummed noncommittally as he took the chest plate back, fingers drumming against the metal.

“I’ll have to talk to Dinae about getting the Magister Fornax to forge us a few dozen cuirasses for me to upgrade. I’m sure if I say I’ll make them for the Herician defenders too then, ah-“

“Wait, what? Why a few dozen?” John asked. He couldn’t imagine he, Rodney and Teyla needing that many, even with spares in case they were taken from them.

Rodney gestured vaguely toward the direction of the living quarters.

“The Hericians will be going back tonight but Augustern and almost all his recruits want to stay and fight,” he explained.

John gaped, stunned. He was proud, in one way, that people wanted to stand with them. But his mind kept seeing Ford, the anger and disgust in his eyes as he’d chosen almost certain death over being led by Sheppard.

“Rodney, I can’t-“ he started.

“You don’t have a choice,” Rodney clipped. “I’m not a military leader, Teyla doesn’t want to lead anyone but her people and Augustern would have us all ale soaked and hungover with ‘celebrations’ after every mission. Besides, these people came here to fight with Maverick.” Rodney smirked. “Shouldn’t disappoint your fans, Sheppard.”

Rodney didn’t even wait for him to respond. He grabbed the chest plate and walked out of the lab, heading toward the entry hall.

John chewed on his lip, anxiety creeping slowly up his throat. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let down anyone else.

But Rodney was right. He didn’t have a choice. Everyone was here already, waiting for him, expecting him to lead them.

He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, a shuddering breath ripped out of him.

What was he going to do?


End file.
